tall, dark and dangerous
by ulstergirl
Summary: During her summer break from college, Nancy's father asks her to help him defend a client from a murder charge in New York.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This story is alternate canon/alternate universe. It contains some minor adult language and some minor suggestive content. Also, Nancy's investigating a murder case, so if the idea of that doesn't appeal to you, please don't read. Otherwise, enjoy!**

* * *

"Well, if it isn't my favorite daughter."

Nancy Drew wrinkled her nose at her father as she sat down opposite him. The large dining table was already set with the majority of their meal, and in the June heat, Hannah Gruen had opted for a light dinner of roasted chicken with marinated cucumber salad and fruity gelatin for dessert. Nancy's father, Carson Drew, looked at the spread before him with some relish, before Hannah brought the pitcher of lemonade with her and sat down.

"Your only daughter," Nancy teased him in return, tossing her reddish-gold hair before she gathered it into a ponytail. While she could normally be described as strawberry blonde, her best friend George Fayne had been encouraging Nancy to accompany her on regular running excursions, and her hair was considerably more golden than it had been at the beginning of the summer. Her skin was glowing too, and being able to relax after the stress of the spring semester felt amazing.

Nancy and both her best friends, George and George's cousin Bess Marvin, were all students at the University of Chicago, and all three of them were home for the summer break. They had all been too tired of schoolwork and classes to even consider enrolling for summer session, and while George had filled her time with triathlon preparations, and Bess had made up for all the time she hadn't spent shopping, that had left Nancy at loose ends. She was looking forward to a trip to the lake with her two best friends in the world to break up the monotony, but in all honesty, she was bored in the meantime, and impatient for a mystery.

Most evenings her father came home with some point of law or intriguing case to discuss with her, and at least she had been able to look forward to that. Carson Drew was the most well-respected criminal defense attorney in the state, and his busy schedule had meant that, during the school year, Nancy hadn't been able to spend nearly enough time with him. She had begged him to take a few days off, just so they could do something together, and she was pretty sure she had him almost convinced.

Her father looked over at her once they had pronounced Hannah's roasted chicken utterly delectable. "I know you're eager for some excitement," he said. "Would you be interested in helping me with a case?"

"I'd love to," Nancy declared, her blue eyes sparkling. "What kind of case?"

"The kind of case that means you'll be putting all that Agatha Christie reading to good use," her father told her. "A locked-room mystery. Or, more accurately, a locked-ship mystery."

Nancy had absolutely no interest in wasting her time with eating when it came to hearing about a new case, but Hannah would chastise her for not finishing her meal. "Okay, I'm definitely intrigued."

As they finished their dinner and sampled the dessert, Carson filled her in on the details. Carson's parents and grandparents were from the New York area, and his sister Eloise still lived there; he kept his license to practice in New York for sentimental reasons, and partially because he was in charge of the family trust and his sister's business affairs, whenever she had need. His reputation and connections meant that occasionally he was asked to take a case that would be tried in the state.

"It's a murder case, Nan."

"I gathered as much," she admitted, spooning up a bite of the gelatin and a chunk of pineapple.

"The preliminary report is that it was an accident, but the prime suspect is a man named Mark Armstruther."

"Your client?"

Carson nodded. "The police have held off on making an arrest, but Armstruther's been questioned, and told not to leave the vicinity. So we need to go to him and figure out what happened. The notoriety on this case is going to be significant, and public relations are already a nightmare for the company involved..."

"So what happened?" Nancy asked, a little impatient.

Carson chuckled. "According to who?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Good point," she conceded.

"Here's the scenario, Detective Drew," Carson said, and quickly took another bite of his dessert. "The major investors who make up the Bennett Group were on a yacht off the coast to discuss a confidential matter that had come up, one that has caused major dissension in the group."

"The locked-door part," she said with a nod.

Carson nodded. "That means, on the one hand, we know who the suspects are; the police didn't find any indication that anyone else boarded the boat, and all the members were there when the police arrived."

Nancy nodded. "All right."

"The victim is Kate Gordon, and she was the daughter of the head of the board, Carlton Gordon. She was shot and killed, and when her body was discovered, she was already dead. No dying declaration, no note."

"And the motive?" Nancy asked, the wheels already turning. "Armstruther must have had one, I'm guessing."

Carson nodded. "He was the only member of the board who didn't agree with whatever the matter was—and no, he hasn't told me what it was, only that it is a confidential business matter."

"Were he and Kate...?" Nancy raised an eyebrow.

"Not to my knowledge. But I'm sure we can ask him that after we arrive."

Nancy nodded. "So, other than Mark..."

"Other than Mark and the two Gordons, the board is made up of five other members. I'd say we can eliminate Carlton, since he's Kate's father, but..."

"Stranger things have happened," Nancy said with a little nod. "A case of mistaken identity, for instance. A misunderstanding."

"Right. And, of course, Mark has the motive."

Nancy pursed her lips. "But we just need an alternate theory of the crime. Right, Dad?"

"Right," Carson said with a fond smile. "And that's where you come in, sweetheart.

"All the other members—the Bennett Group is just a set of investors, and so we're not looking at a company, not really. The major motivation here is almost certainly money."

"Who stood to gain from Kate's death? Who inherits under the terms of her will?"

"She died intestate." Carson paused. "On the one hand, the premeditation—someone had to bring a gun on board, after all—indicates that this wasn't a crime of passion, that it was coldly calculated. On the other hand, if someone wanted Kate dead, and wanted to shoot her, it would be infinitely easier to make it look like a mugging. Shoot her on the street, arrange it that way."

Hannah, who had been clearing the table, shook her head at the two of them. "I'll be finishing up some canning," she told them, wrinkling her nose. "All this murder talk... if I wanted that, I'd watch one of those crime shows."

They took the hint, waiting until she was out of the room to continue. "So, on the one hand, we have a limited number of suspects," Nancy continued slowly. "On the other hand, if this was premeditated, the killer had to know that he—or she? Are there female members of the board?"

"One other," Carson confirmed.

"Whoever did this would know that he or she would be a suspect."

"And maybe that's the point."

Nancy tilted her head. "Oh?"

Carson nodded. "Mark feels he was intentionally framed for the murder, to get him out of the way, and this meeting was the perfect way to arrange that. The problem is that he has no idea which one of the other board members might have done it, because they all have a motive to frame him."

"So we'll need to start with interviews of the other suspects."

"Which I will leave up to you."

Nancy propped her chin on her hand. "Undercover."

"Right. I can't be involved in the interviews; once they knew who I was, they would clam up, or at least start telling less of the truth."

"And you have a very well-known face," Nancy pointed out with a smile.

Carson chuckled. "Anyway. Your cover identity will be rather unique. You'll be going in as a potential investor to join the group, in Mark's absence, who is naturally curious about Kate's death..."

Nancy raised her left hand. "So I have how long to become conversant in the world of investing...?"

Carson smiled. "You don't. I seem to remember you telling me that your brain was officially at capacity after the spring semester."

"For book-learnin', anyway," Nancy teased. "But I'll be honest, it would be tough to come across as an expert in this quickly."

"That's where Humphrey comes in."

It took a second for Nancy to place the name. "Oh. Oh, please—Humphrey _Corbett_?"

Carson nodded. "The very same. And, Nancy..."

She let out a long, disappointed sigh. "Dad, look, I know you're best friends with _his_ dad..."

"And he's not so bad," Carson argued. "Maybe a little..."

"Pompous? Egotistical? Totally full of himself? And nursing a not-so-secret crush on me?" Nancy finished, propping her chin on her hand again.

"Okay, so he's awkward. But he's got the knowledge and expertise you need."

"So he's going to get me up to speed?"

"Well, we have to talk to him, but I thought it might make more sense for him to pose as the potential investor, and you as his assistant."

Nancy's frown deepened. "You mean secretary."

"Administrative assistant."

"Your euphemisms are unappreciated," Nancy groaned.

Carson chuckled. "Dear, I'm sure it won't be as bad as all that."

She sighed. "Well, if nothing else, I'm sure I'll solve the case even faster, if Humphrey's slobbering over me all the time."

"I'm sure he doesn't _slobber_..."

"Objection sustained," Nancy said, and Carson chuckled again. "All right. Well, at least I won't get caught in some lie... as long as Humphrey really does know his stuff."

"I have it on good authority that he does."

"And while he's sweet-talking our suspects..."

"You're poking around, asking for financials, anything that will help us figure out the motive behind Kate's death." Carson spooned up the last bite of his dessert.

"Sounds like a lot of legwork. So when do we leave?"

"I need to finalize plans with Humphrey, but considering the urgency that the police are feeling over this, the sooner the better."

"Then I'd better go pack," Nancy said with a grin.

On the way up the stairs, Nancy felt exhilarated at the prospect of a new mystery. The only stumbling block was having to deal with Humphrey.

Humphrey Corbett was the son of one of Carson's old friends, and Humphrey and Nancy were only a few years apart in age. On their first meeting, since he was older than she was, Nancy had been just a little awed by him, but that hadn't lasted long. He had tried incredibly hard to impress her by proving his superiority, and even when she was in elementary school, Nancy had been more perceptive than most of her peers. They had seen each other while attending social events with their parents, at the River Heights Country Club and in Chicago, and while Nancy was polite to him, she ignored all his other innuendoes and hints, hoping that he would eventually lose interest in her.

Nancy sighed. She knew her father meant well, and she doubted that he had picked Humphrey strictly based on that long-standing relationship. As far as she knew, Humphrey really was the financial whiz her father had promised. But she also knew that her father didn't want her to be lonely.

And Nancy wasn't lonely, most of the time. She had been solving mysteries practically since she had been able to walk and talk, and her best friends had always been there for her. George was skilled in judo, and Bess was always willing to talk—or call the police, should the need arise. As the three of them had often joked, if the activity could result in a broken nail, Bess would be at least a little reluctant to join in.

But Nancy had watched Bess fall for boyfriend after boyfriend, and a part of her had wished she could throw herself into a relationship the way Bess did, or love as deeply as she did. Bess seemed to feel that ineffable "spark" with so many guys, and Nancy never had. She had dated Don Cameron when she was in high school, and while Don was a perfectly nice guy—she still saw him around River Heights every now and then, and he treated her just as warmly as he ever had—she had never felt anything more than a fondness for him.

Don was guilty of what so many of her boyfriends had been guilty of. They either didn't care about her cases and were supremely annoyed when she had to break dates with them, or were so worried about her safety that they insisted on accompanying her—and, in those cases, invariably insisted that she give up solving mysteries. Don was one of the latter, and he never understood why she couldn't just leave the detecting to the police or other authorities.

Nancy sighed. On the other hand, many of the men she met weren't really relationship material, especially those she met on cases. Some of the most charming men whose acquaintance she had ever made had turned out to be devastatingly handsome sociopaths. With a pang she remembered the gorgeous long-lashed eyes of Daryl Gray, and how that case had turned out. It never worked out with the others, either, the ones who turned out to have no connection to the case but wanted to spend time with her. They always fell into one of those groups, overly protective or dismissive, and that attraction she felt always turned out nothing more than a flash of brief but intense interest. Meeting someone new always felt like it could work, but it never did.

Nancy had been infatuated a few times. In love? She couldn't honestly say that had ever happened.

Bess was always positive that eventually Nancy would find a guy who could be both protective and helpful, who valued her work and wanted to help her with it without stifling her. Nancy had grown more and more discouraged, though. It was easier for Bess, whose life was generally a lot less complicated.

Maybe George had it right, Nancy mused. George took a while to open up to guys once they expressed interest, and they had to really pursue her before she even gave them a chance.

As she lugged out her suitcase, though, Nancy chuckled a little to herself. No matter what, she was absolutely sure of one thing: Humphrey Corbett _definitely_ wasn't the guy for her.

Since she would be impersonating a secretary—_executive assistant_, she corrected herself wryly—Nancy looked through her wardrobe, considering. Her favorite power suit was clean and ready to wear, but she had a bad feeling, and when she tried it on, she found she was right. All the running and exercise with George during spring semester and over the past month had left her more toned, but more slender as well, and her suit was no longer form-fitting. Nancy didn't mind so much. The less flattering her clothes were, the less she would stand out, and the less Humphrey would have to fixate on while they were questioning suspects. She _definitely_ didn't want to give him the wrong idea by dressing too alluringly.

Nancy had just shrugged out of the jacket when her father called up the stairs. "Nan? Humphrey's on the phone."

With a stifled sigh, Nancy crossed to the extension and picked it up, focusing on her open closet door instead of whatever he was about to say. "Hello?"

"So you need my help, Nancy?" Humphrey's tone was almost gloating, and Nancy held the phone's receiver away from her mouth as she sighed.

"No. My _father_ does," she pointed out. "We'll just be doing legwork for him, and—"

"Legwork. I like the sound of that."

Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to rise to the bait. "Research, then. Our relationship here is going to be strictly professional. You'll have your own room, and..."

"All the better," Humphrey purred. "I'd hate for us to be... interrupted."

Nancy let out a frustrated sigh. "For the last damn time, Humphrey, that is totally off the table," she said firmly. "I really appreciate your offer to help, and that's it."

"And that gratitude..."

"Is of a strictly platonic nature."

Humphrey sighed, too. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said philosophically. "Because you may have been a gangly tomboy, but you have definitely become a fine-lookin' woman."

"Good_bye_, Humphrey," Nancy said, then hung up the phone.

She had half-packed her suitcase with her more professional-looking attire when she checked the time. If she had any chance of reaching Bess, she had a feeling she should go ahead and call.

"Hello?"

"Hey Bess. Busy?"

"Not until my nails dry," Bess chuckled. "So what's up? We still on for the lake trip?"

"Um..."

Bess sighed. "I know that 'um,'" she said. "What kind of case?"

"It's a case I'm helping my dad with. In New York. With any luck it'll only take a few days, and then we'll be back and sunbathing in no time."

"You don't happen to need any help, do you? Fifth Avenue is particularly sale-tastic this time of year..."

"Is it?" Nancy wrinkled her nose.

"In a 'not at all' sort of way," Bess sighed. "With my luck, anyway. So what kind of case?"

"Murder case. Lots of legwork and research. And I will be undercover for it, but nothing fun, honestly. Playing a _secretary._"

Bess groaned. "Hmm. Well, it sounds like you wouldn't really need _my_ help, and I'd be free to shop..."

"Pretty much," Nancy confirmed. "I can ask Dad if he wants to get a suite so you and George...?"

"Isn't her triathlon-thingie this week?"

"Shit. Yeah." The way Bess almost entirely refused to learn the correct terms for her cousin's activities was almost cute.

"Eh. I think I'll get some more tanning in and cheer George on while she single-handedly rows a boat across the Atlantic or whatever the hell she's doing, and hope for a better case. You think you can whip up something that will require me to impersonate a super-gorgeous socialite who gets free stuff wherever she goes?"

Nancy laughed. "I'll be sure to alert you as soon as one of _those_ comes up," she promised. "And I really am sorry about delaying the trip."

Bess made a dismissive sound. "We've got all summer. It's fine, Nan."

"And, once you hear this, I'm sure you'll be happy you made that choice..."

"Seriously? Were you trying to get me to come along under false pretenses?" Bess dropped her voice. "Is it some crazy stalker going after blonde-haired blue-eyed girls?"

"No! No, of course not, Bess. I'd never put you in danger like that."

"And that's why you're my best friend." Bess paused. "But he better not be going after redheaded blue-eyed detectives, either."

"Not that. It's who's coming along with us." Nancy paused, aware that she was doing so for dramatic effect. "Humphrey."

Bess considered. "Oh. _Oh. Humphrey_? Like always-panting-after-you, douchebag-extraordinaire Humphrey?"

"The very same," Nancy said grimly.

"Oh man. Well, now I'm torn."

"How so?"

"On the one hand, I want to come along and defend you from the nefarious clutches of that—that _octopus._ On the other hand... _ugh._"

"Yep. Exactly." Nancy sat down at the edge of her bed. "I'll keep you up to date, though, and if he gets out of control, I'll just mace him and try one of George's judo holds."

"That'll teach him. For a few seconds, anyway," Bess said with a chuckle.

The next morning, Nancy woke to the smell of French toast and bounded down the stairs after tossing her hair into a ponytail. "Morning," she greeted her father with a kiss on the cheek, already grinning in anticipation of breakfast.

"Morning," he replied with a smile, flipping a slice. "I'm going to go in this morning and see if there have been any new developments, and make our travel arrangements. Are you already packed and ready to go, Detective?"

"You mean _secretary_," she teased him. "And yes. My power suit is a little too big for me, not to mention a few years old, so I might just have to borrow your gold card once we get to New York...?"

Carson shook his head, chuckling, but he had never denied Nancy anything, and she knew he was teasing. "We'll just see about that."

Her father's French toast was delicious, as it always was, and Nancy checked her suitcase four times to make sure she was fully packed and hadn't forgotten anything, waiting impatiently for her father's call. In the meantime she called George and wished her friend luck with the triathlon, telling her that with any luck, if she was able to solve the case quickly, she would be there to cheer her on. George wished her luck on the case, and then Nancy sat down on the living room couch, flipping through the channels faster than she could possibly see the shows, her foot tapping impatiently against the carpet.

"Calm down," Hannah chastised her. "You're so fidgety, Nancy!"

Nancy glanced over at the longtime housekeeper. Hannah had her crochet needles and yarn out, and from the colors, Nancy was pretty sure that she had just discovered her sister's newest-announced grandchild was a girl. "Sorry," she apologized. "I wish I knew when we were leaving!"

When the phone rang an hour later, Nancy pounced on it before Hannah could even think about it. "Drew residence," she said breathlessly.

Her father chuckled on the other end. "_Someone_ sounds like she's been waiting practically on top of the phone," he said. "Sweetheart, I have some bad news."

Nancy's heart sank. "Has he been arrested?"

"Not yet. But one of my other clients here has a grand-jury appearance scheduled for tomorrow and I have to be here for it. I've been trying to get it delayed, but the judge won't hear of it. Do you mind heading to New York without me and starting on the case?"

"With Humphrey," Nancy said, with a sigh.

"He said he would be available today if we needed him," her father reported. "I'll try to get up there as quickly as I can..."

"And in the meantime, I'll just keep you posted with updates," Nancy said. "No, it's okay. The faster I get started, the more quickly we'll be able to figure out who committed the murder."

"Use my frequent flyer miles and book yourself a flight, all right, Nan? And you can use the gold card for a hotel room."

"For me alone, right?"

"Of course," Carson said, sounding a little puzzled. "I mean, unless Bess and George are going with you...?"

"Not this time. I just—Humphrey will have his own room."

"Of course," Carson replied. "Did you think...?"

"No. I just have a feeling _he_ might have."

"I definitely hope not. And if he tries anything inappropriate, please let me know—"

"I can handle him," Nancy said with a chuckle. "Just another minor inconvenience. Let me go ahead and look at flights."

"And remember, Nan. Tread carefully. From everything Mark told me, these people are very good liars, and finding a motive in all this might take a _lot_ of untangling."

"Duly noted."

"Be careful, keep me posted, and make me proud."

She smiled. "I'll do my best, Dad."


	2. Chapter 2

New York. Nancy took a deep breath of the odoriferous air and grinned as she exited the terminal, pulling her wheeled suitcase along behind her, her laptop bag and duffel slung across her other arm. She had visited the city many times, mostly to see her aunt and work on cases, but she had never grown tired of it, and was sure she never would. It was one of the most exciting places in the world, and although the circumstances weren't totally ideal—Nancy hated that a man's life hung in the balance—she still felt exhilarated.

Humphrey strode before her to the curb. The darkness was punctuated by the wall-to-wall sea of headlights and taxis' on-duty lights, and the tang of motor oil, exhaust, and hot tar was almost palpable. "Come on, Nan!"

Nancy made a face at Humphrey's back as she strode toward the taxi he had flagged down. She hated being called Nan when she hadn't said that was okay with her, but Humphrey didn't seem to mind a bit.

"Let's get a drink once we get to the hotel."

Once the cabbie had maneuvered all their luggage into the trunk and started to force his way through the traffic toward their hotel, Humphrey and Nancy had tried to settle in the backseat. The entire flight he had been making veiled innuendoes, and she had seen him toss back at least two of the airplane bottles of vodka. She was glad Humphrey wouldn't be driving while they were in the city.

"You know I'm not of legal age to drink."

"Hey, it's all good. Minibar." Humphrey wiggled his eyebrows in a way Nancy was sure he thought was attractive. It just made him look vaguely ridiculous.

His problem, Nancy reflected, was that he just tried way too hard. He wore a white-collared-and-cuffed blue and grey-striped dress shirt under his expensive suit, his shoes were shined, and he had the pocket square and the tie tack—they were just a little askew, and his hair was slicked back. If he were a different guy, the look might have worked for him—but twenty years earlier. As it was, Nancy just felt a little sorry for him.

Until he started one of his clumsy pickup attempts. Then she just felt irritated.

She had brought along a fake ID putting her above legal age, one bearing the name Ann Mallory to go along with her cover identity, but she had no intention of telling Humphrey that, or of drinking around him. He was harmless enough, and she couldn't see him actually putting anything in her drink or taking advantage of her if she were passed out, but she didn't want to see him lose even more of his inhibitions, or to get so drunk that she actually reamed him out. As she reminded herself again, she needed him.

She had taken time the night before and while waiting for the flight to do some research, but she only had brief biographical sketches on the five Bennett Group members they would be interviewing the next day. From what she understood, the shot had been close-range, so any of the other passengers could have been responsible. She was hoping that the interviews would give her some hunch or instinct for who might have done it.

At least she had a perfect excuse for not taking advantage of Humphrey's minibar. "Look, I know we both have a lot of research to do," Nancy said, trying to keep her tone even. "I have to go talk to Mark tonight, and we don't want to look hungover in the morning when we go on our interviews."

"Ahh, come on! I'm a big-shot investor; it would seem odd if I _weren't_ hungover!"

Nancy tried as hard as she could not to roll her eyes at him. "Humor me, please?"

Once they reached the hotel and checked into their separate rooms—and she wasn't exactly thrilled that their rooms were directly across the hall from each other, but at least they weren't connecting—Nancy hastily put her hair up in a ponytail, grabbed her room key and crossbody purse, and set out.

Mark Armstruther's address was a considerable distance from the hotel, and on the way Nancy called her father to check in and let him know she had made it in safely. He told her that no further progress had been made on the case, but if she discovered anything, he would be available day or night. Then Nancy called her Aunt Eloise. While she was in the city, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to go see her, if their schedules managed to coincide.

Mark Armstruther's building had a doorman, and when Nancy gave her name, he gestured toward the elevator. The decor was beautiful and understated, and the doorman had to turn a key to even send her elevator to the penthouse, where Mark lived.

Nancy's Aunt Eloise lived in a modest, comfortable apartment in New York, and from her experience in the city, Nancy knew it was probably outrageously expensive.

She couldn't even imagine what the price of Mark's apartment must have been. Enormous plate-glass windows afforded an unparalleled view of the city, and the furniture was tasteful and minimalist. A steel and glass stairwell led to the loft level, and the flat-panel television had its own automatic recess in the wall. A man she assumed was Mark, tall and middle-aged in a button-down, sleeves rolled up and feet bare, came around the corner to greet her. He gave her a smile, but she could see the tension in his face.

"Mr. Armstruther?"

He nodded. "Miss Drew?"

Nancy nodded too. "My father said he called you..."

Mark gestured for her to sit down. "He did. Would you like something to drink?"

"Water would be great."

"Anything with it? Lemon twist?"

Nancy smiled. "Lemon twist sounds good."

She couldn't help it; she watched him put her drink together, just in case he tried anything, but she didn't detect anything amiss. He brought it over to the couch in the living room.

"Now, before we start, I'm sure he told you, but in this case I'm acting as my father's agent. Anything you tell me is considered just as confidential as it would be, were you to say it to him." That was part of why she hadn't wanted Humphrey to come along. While he was also, in a way, acting as Carson's agent, he wasn't accustomed to the level of confidentiality and secrecy needed for the client.

Plus, she was just sick of being around Humphrey. She dreaded that aspect of their interviews the next day.

Mark nodded, draping his arm casually over the back cushion of the seat between them. For a second Nancy reconsidered. If Humphrey could see the effortless confidence Mark exuded, maybe he could learn something. But then, Humphrey definitely wouldn't look anything like Mark in that outfit. Mark's brow was wide and clear, and while it looked like it had receded a little, she had to admit it wasn't a bad look on him. His shirt was open far enough for her to see a bit of his chest hair, and she didn't recognize the watch on his wrist, but she had no doubt Bess would have, and she would have been impressed. Mark was definitely five years too old for her, or Bess, but Nancy's gut told her that he was innocent.

Then again, her gut had been wrong before. She was working from the premise that Mark had not been responsible for Kate Gordon's death—but if she found any evidence to the contrary, she would definitely take it into consideration.

Nancy took a deep breath. "Who had the motivation to kill Ms. Gordon?"

Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No one," he said. "But the problem is, if no one did, then everyone equally didn't."

"Did you hear rumors? Was there possibly a romantic relationship between Kate and someone else, maybe a falling-out?"

Mark shook his head. "Not that I know. Brian and Li are each married, but that doesn't mean anything, honestly. Kate's—was—a good-looking woman."

"But you disagreed with her over the matter being discussed during that meeting."

"I disagreed with all of them," Mark said. "Carlton, all of them. I... the thing I can't understand is, if someone wanted me out of the way, why not shoot _me_? Why shoot Kate?"

Nancy shrugged. "Because Kate was the real target?" she suggested. "Maybe you just happened to be the most convenient patsy." _Or_, she added silently, _maybe you did want Kate dead._

Mark grimaced. "That's a charming thought."

Nancy asked Mark to describe his responsibilities as part of the Bennett Group, and he told her that for him, it was just another on the list, another investment group, another opportunity. The other members of the group, other than the Gordons, had their own companies as well.

Next, she asked him to give her brief biographical sketches of the other suspects, taking notes and paying attention to the ways he gave himself away when he talked about them. She could tell that he didn't like Vicky—Victoria—or Brian that much, but he didn't elaborate on that, or even seem to realize he was telegraphing that emotion. He was easy to be comfortable around, engaged without being too intense, but she could still sense that underlying current of frustration. She didn't blame him at all. She couldn't imagine the stress of being prime suspect in a murder investigation.

His tells were very slight, too, and she only saw them when she was looking for them. It made her wonder if she just hadn't caught him in any other lies yet—and how likely she would be to spot the killer during the interviews tomorrow. All of them were businesspeople, professionals, and would undoubtedly have excellent poker faces.

One thing her father had taught her was that clients were likely to lie to make themselves appear better in some way, especially when they thought the lie wouldn't be detected. No matter how Carson told them that the information they passed along was confidential, and he would do everything he could to help the judge and jury see either the extenuating circumstances or the innocence of his clients, the clients were often sure that lying was the best policy, until the prosecuting attorney caught them at it.

By the time Nancy left Mark's apartment, she was beyond exhausted, but her mind wouldn't stop racing. Mark had given her a lot of good information, and she was eager to meet the suspects.

And, she had to admit, to get the charade of pretending to be Humphrey's secretary mostly over with. She would still need to play that role when around the suspects, but if she caught one of them in a lie or with the right motive, that might not necessarily take too long.

* * *

By the time noon rolled around, Nancy knew two things: she really needed to buy a new pair of heels, and the other members of the Bennett Group she had met so far were unutterably boring and arrogant.

What she didn't know was whether one of them had been the murderer.

Victoria Parker, Brian MacIntosh, and Lionel Stallings were all about the same age as Mark, and Nancy had sensed a certain ruthlessness in each of them. Humphrey had been happy to present himself as an opportunistic potential investor ready to take Mark's place, and he requested personal interviews with the other members just to present himself for inspection, and to ingratiate himself. In all honesty it didn't matter whether the suspects approved of Humphrey or not, only that they consented to the interviews. And, Nancy had to admit, she was a little impressed at the extent of Humphrey's backstory. He was honest about his name, major at college and his interests, but he presented himself as a younger son of an affluent family eager to succeed and make a name for himself. Easily a third of the terms Humphrey used in discussion were entirely unfamiliar to Nancy, but from the expressions on the faces of the suspects during the interviews, they were entirely conversant, and not at all suspicious of his authenticity. Some details of his backstory wouldn't bear close scrutiny, but, as he had told her in the cab on the way to the first meeting, a little bullshit was par for the course with these guys.

Parker, MacIntosh, and Stallings each kept them waiting, and while they waited, Humphrey kept retesting the waters, and Nancy kept steering him back toward the case. According to Humphrey, the most likely scenario that could explain the disagreement, maybe even provide the motive for the murder, was a conflict of interest. Nancy asked him to explain exactly what he meant when they were in the cab on the way to meet MacIntosh.

"It's like this," Humphrey said, holding his hands up to gesticulate. "The investors are likely to have pet projects. They're on the lookout for the next big thing, the next prospect that will give them a tremendous windfall, and part of that is speculation. But that also means that, occasionally, some project will come up that they could personally benefit from. Say that I become a member of the group, and I invest in a company designing solar-powered cars, for example."

"Wouldn't that be farfetched—"

"It's just an example," Humphrey said impatiently. "And you wouldn't believe the kind of stuff people will invest in, hoping it'll catch on. And let's be honest here; the feasibility isn't so much an issue as the _perceived_ value of the project. If the project garners a lot of interest and the stock rises, I could sell at a high rate and make a bundle, regardless of the eventual future of the project.

"But let's just say I'm in on the solar-powered cars scheme. I present the project to my fellow investors. I advise that they invest."

"As long as you declare your connection to the project, that's not really a problem, is it?"

Humphrey shrugged. "Really depends. Many of these investment groups make up a portfolio for everyday investors, who don't have this kind of money to play around with themselves. They ride on the coattails, and the reputation of the group depends on their results. Investors lose confidence, there's less money to play with, less trust in the company as a whole. Kate Gordon's death—well, people are kind of like a flock of—birds, or whatever. If they startle, it all goes bad. So they really need to move past this as soon as they can. My expressing interest will only boost their confidence."

"So what else does the conflict of interest mean?" Nancy asked, keeping her expression open and interested, but not overly so. For as long as he was being informative, she was willing to listen. She just didn't want him to veer off into his creepy flirting again.

"If I convince the group to invest, and after six months I find out that the project is no longer viable... I'm in a rather unique situation."

Nancy nodded. "If you tell the other investors, they'll sell and the price you'll get will go down."

"And if I _don't_ tell them, if I convince them and others to keep investing, I've been dishonest. Insider trading. The feds get involved. Things get ugly."

Nancy tapped her fingertips on her knee. "Things get ugly enough to kill someone who might want to blow the whistle," she murmured.

Humphrey nodded. "We're not talking about a hundred or a thousand dollars to be lost here."

Just then the cab pulled up in front of the office building, and Nancy put her game face back on, smoothing her skirt as she slid out of the taxi. She was still thinking hard, though. She could see a glaring hole in Humphrey's explanation.

Mark had said that _he_ was the only dissenting vote, not Kate. So why kill Kate, if she was going along with whatever the deal being discussed was? There had to be more to it; she just wasn't sure what.

Each of the suspects they interviewed that morning expressed their sympathies over Kate's death—once they could be bothered to show up for their meetings, that was. However, their eyes all lit up with interest when Humphrey said he was interested in taking Mark's place in their group, if they were interested in his money. Nancy was glad that her hair was a few shades lighter; in the meetings she put on the persona of a mildly airheaded, gossipy blonde, and maintained that cover when she announced their arrival to secretaries. While no one they met that morning seemed entirely open and honest, laying the groundwork could never hurt.

Humphrey made an excuse to leave the room each time, as Nancy had asked, and Nancy used the opportunities to ask the suspects off-the-record questions. Victoria's eyes gleamed with interest when Nancy gushed that Kate Gordon's death sounded just like a Lifetime movie she had seen a few weeks ago, and she wondered aloud if some disgruntled ex-lover was behind the whole thing. Lionel Stallings, Nancy was pretty sure, would be open to a seduction play, and for a brief, intense moment Nancy wished that Bess had come along with her to take that bullet. Stallings wasn't bad-looking, but something about him made the hair on the back of Nancy's neck stand up. She really, _really_ hoped it didn't come to that, especially since for all they knew Kate really had been killed by a disgruntled lover or ex-lover.

Brian MacIntosh, though, was another animal altogether. He kept them waiting longest, and his desk was clear of personal effects. He used every opportunity he could to bark at his harried secretary, and Nancy tossed as many sympathetic glances at the woman as she could. It was part of her cover, but she did feel genuinely sorry for the woman. When Humphrey left the room, MacIntosh spent the whole time on his cell phone—and the facade dropped as Nancy realized the pressing matter that had necessitated the call was a set of Lakers tickets. MacIntosh totally ignored Nancy, and focused all his attention on Humphrey.

She didn't like any of them, but their reprehensible personalities didn't necessarily translate to a murderous intent.

MacIntosh's posturing and delay in seeing them meant they ran late for their lunch appointment with the next suspect. While Nancy had a feeling that he would arrive at the same time they did, considering the way the rest of the day had gone, she was still impatient to get there and not lose their chance at the interview. When Humphrey sensed Nancy's impatience—she couldn't stop drumming her fingertips on her knee, or tapping her stockinged foot on the floorboard of the cab—he pulled out his cell phone.

"Hi. Traffic is—you too? Great. See you there." Humphrey gave Nancy a little tilt of his head as he hung up the phone. "See? Calm down. Have a drink. We're almost done."

Nancy ignored the comment, glancing back down at her heels with a grimace. The peep-toe slingback heels were gorgeous, but a little too tight, and she dreaded the prospect of putting them back on for their lunch date.

The fourth member of the group they were interviewing was Vincent Cantoni, and Humphrey had been excited when he had seen that name. Apparently he had gone to school with Cantoni's younger brother, and had nothing but admiration for him. Nancy had asked if his cover story would hold up with Cantoni, and Humphrey had shrugged it off, reminding her yet again that any discrepancies would just be chalked up to his natural desire to look good.

Cantoni was a few years younger than the members they had met in the morning, and very well dressed. He didn't bring an executive assistant along to their lunch date, so Nancy had no one to confide in and indirectly question, and Humphrey was so involved with trying to one-up the man that he never left Cantoni alone with Nancy for a personal interview. Nancy was infinitely annoyed when Humphrey sent the conversation straight into left field with a discussion of playoff chances, and she was grateful yet again that she had made her alias so similar to her real name when Humphrey slipped and addressed her as "Nan." Only if Cantoni had been listening closely would he have sensed anything wrong, and she watched him closely. He didn't even blink.

When Humphrey ordered his third drink from the bar, Nancy sucked up her revulsion at the idea of touching him in any way and nudged him with her stockinged foot under the table. He just tossed a grin back at her, and if she hadn't seen the same casual sexism with many other men, she would have been worried that it would tip off Cantoni.

"We have another meeting this afternoon," she reminded Humphrey, putting a polite smile on her face.

Humphrey just shrugged. "We'll be fine. Calm down. Hey Vince, I heard from Rico that you really had a crazy time your senior year..."

Once it became clear that Humphrey had only given lip service to the investment idea and was more interested in ingratiating himself with his old friend's brother, Nancy made a mental note to go by and see Cantoni in his office just so she could check him out further. In the absence of the personal interview, Nancy caught herself becoming irritated at the way Cantoni treated their waitress, as she scrutinized his behavior as best she could.

_Okay, Drew,_ she chastised herself. _Now you're just losing it. What have you liked about _any_ of these people?_

Nothing, she had to admit. She hadn't even liked Parker, and she found herself wondering what Mark Armstruther had seen in these people. Then again, she hadn't met Carlton Gordon yet, or the rest of the group. Maybe all that had linked them was the pursuit of wealth.

As Humphrey and Vincent shared stories of their alma mater, Nancy kept one ear tuned to their conversation and part of her attention focused on Vincent's mannerisms as she realized that was what bugged her most. Her father was well-off, and she had benefitted tremendously from his financial stability, but her father was an amazing defense attorney not because he wanted exorbitant fees or influence. In fact, many times, Nancy had seen her father take cases pro-bono when the client couldn't afford his usual fee, and only because Carson felt so strongly about the case that he couldn't turn it down, not because it offered him any prestige or political value. He did what he loved, and he was able to provide for himself and his family through it.

This world she found herself in, of high-stakes finance and risk versus reward, speculation and payoff, conspicuous consumption and arrogance and greed... even Mark Armstruther's apartment, she thought. She had been awed by it, had admired it, but part of that had been because she was seeing things through Bess's eyes.

How the hell was she going to be able to figure out which one of these people had killed Kate Gordon, when they all seemed equally despicable? She was beginning to understand what Mark had meant. None of them really had the motivation to kill Kate Gordon just to set Mark up, but that meant they _all_ did, equally, somehow.

They had just slid into the taxi on the way to their last interview of the day when Nancy glanced over at Humphrey. "You seemed _much_ less focused back there," she said, annoyed. "You think maybe if you sober up you can keep on topic? Maybe we should reschedule this appointment for tomorrow so you can get your head on straight."

Humphrey gaped at her. "What? _What_? Seriously, relax! You need a _drink_."

Nancy shook her head, her mouth set. "A man's _life_ is at stake. I'm not going to relax until we have some leads, and now I have to go back and re-interview that guy because all you did was pal around with him exchanging your stupid school stories!"

"Do you _honestly_ think Vinnie had anything to do with this? Come on. You can go ahead and strike him and the broad—what's her face—off the list."

"Why?" Nancy demanded, crossing her arms.

"Vinnie just isn't that kind of guy. And the woman, she just—wouldn't."

"Because she's a woman?" Nancy asked icily.

Humphrey bobbed his head, his eyes wide. "Look, if you're going to be so pissy about this, we'll go talk to him again. At his office." Humphrey raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "But I'd bet you that the woman isn't behind this. You just need to chill out. You're gonna spook them if you're acting like this."

Nancy just stared at him for a few wordless seconds, then rapped on the plastic divider between them and the driver. "We need to stop for a coffee on the way," she informed the man, hoping it would serve to get Humphrey through their last interview.

Once they were seated in their fourth office of the day, Nancy glanced down at her slingbacks again, vowing that she would throw them away as soon as humanly possible. One last interview. Just one more. She would buy another pair of shoes for the next round of interviews, but—

"Sorry I'm late."

Nancy was praying that the caffeine had done its job as she brought her head up. One last greedy, egocentric investor and possible murderer to interview. One last suspect for the day. She began to push herself up and out of her chair, as Humphrey did the same.

"Pleasure to meet you," Humphrey said, introducing himself and nodding in Nancy's direction as he introduced her by her alias. At least he had remembered that, Nancy thought sourly. The man shook Humphrey's hand, then looked over at Nancy just as she raised her head to look into his eyes.

And it was suddenly as though she was fully awake, _alive_ for the first time.

The investors they had met, the secretaries, everyone had been well-dressed, but the man in front of her was a class above. He looked like he had just stepped off the pages of a magazine advertisement, and definitely not for something boring. His haircut, the sculpted shadow of his facial hair, the casual elegance of his ensemble—he looked like a model on the cover of _GQ_, and Nancy had no doubt that Bess could probably identify the designer of the suit and shirt he wore without even trying.

And that was just his clothes. His dark eyes were expressive and intelligent, his features chiseled, his jaw square.

Nancy had met many, many handsome men, especially on her cases. The man standing before her, extending his hand, was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen in person.

"Edmund Nickerson," he repeated, introducing himself to her as he had to Humphrey.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. She had no idea how she managed to take his hand and shake it like nothing was wrong; the instant their skin touched, that feeling of almost painful awareness, like her entire body was alight, was magnified a hundredfold. She had never in her life experienced anything like it. "Ann—Ann Mallory," she forced out. "Nice to meet you."

From the way he was studying her, Nancy was sure that everything she was feeling had to be reflected on her face, and to her horror she found herself blushing as she sat back down, following Nickerson's lead.

_I'm just tired_, she told herself, her gaze locked to him. _It's been a long day._

_How can I feel drunk if I haven't had a single thing to drink?_

To her relief Humphrey stuck to the script, as he had with everyone other than Cantoni, and Nickerson expressed his sympathies over Kate's death; Nancy sensed that he was genuine about it, but she wasn't sure whether to trust herself.

_Is this how Bess feels, all the time?_ Nancy caught herself wondering. _Holy shit. Holy _shit.

_This man could be a murderer._

That thought sobered her immensely, but it didn't lessen the almost painful awareness she was feeling. She found herself studying him, and forcing herself to take notes every now and then just so she wouldn't be openly staring at him.

She had met incredibly handsome suspects before. That was all this was. That was all.

Nancy raised her head again and found that he was looking at her, and even the briefest glance left her almost trembling, the way it made her heart pound.

Humphrey made his excuse to leave the room, and as soon as they were alone, to her intense discomfort, Nancy found herself flushing a little. She glanced down at her notebook.

"So were you actually there, on the boat?" she said, making her voice a little breathless, and then looked up at Nickerson.

A small smile was playing with his lips, but it vanished at the reminder. "Yes," he confirmed.

"Was it really an accident?" Nancy made her eyes wide. "It just sounds so... so frightening."

Nickerson studied her. "By the time I found out what happened, the police were already on the way," he said. "They're looking into it, and I'm sure they'll get to the bottom of it."

"Did you know her very well?"

He paused again before he spoke. "Not _extremely_ well, no. My time with the Bennett Group is a very small percentage of my ventures."

"Oh."

Nickerson smiled at her again, but before he could say anything else, Humphrey came back in. He asked a few more questions about the Bennett Group, but all too soon the interview was over, and the three of them rose. Nickerson reached for Humphrey's hand again, and Nancy felt her heart beating faster when Nickerson turned to her to shake her hand as well.

_You're being an idiot,_ she chastised herself. _You're just tired and..._

He took her hand and the sensation was somehow even more intense than it had been. "If you have any more questions, please give me a call," he said, and while Nancy knew he was addressing both of them, Nickerson's gaze was locked to hers as he said it. "Here's my card."

He handed it to her, and Nancy was both relieved that she would soon be out of his presence, and strangely deflated. She followed Humphrey out, resisting the urge to glance back at him.

_Anyone I met today might have killed Kate Gordon. _He_ might have killed Kate Gordon._

Nancy found herself desperately hoping that he hadn't.


	3. Chapter 3

"Any good news, Nan?"

Nancy tipped her head back with a sigh as she heard her father's voice through her cell phone. She had managed to convince Humphrey to head back to the hotel by telling him she was going shopping, and that she didn't plan on being back until after dinner. He had wanted to continue their conversation, but she had flagged down a taxi and slipped inside, apologizing as she did.

She hadn't wanted to be around Humphrey, especially not after that last interview. While Humphrey did seem at least moderately oblivious to some cues, she didn't want him making any comment on her behavior around Nickerson. She was telling herself to forget it, and to make up for that strange spark between them by investigating him even more closely.

Before she did that, though, she was _definitely _going to need some new shoes.

"On the one hand, Humphrey's old friends with the brother of one of the suspects," she told her father. "On the other hand... I still don't know which one of them did it."

"Tell me your impressions," he invited her.

"Mostly negative. How did the grand jury appearance go?"

"It was delayed," Carson said with a heavy sigh. "One of those hurry-up-and-wait situations. I wish I could hop on a plane tonight, but I do trust your insight. Did any of them give you a particularly negative feeling?"

Nancy thought guiltily of the warmth that had swept over her when Nickerson had taken her hand. "Definitely, just for different reasons. Just so you know, though, your gold card and I are on the way to the department store..."

Carson chuckled. "Sounds like a business expense to me," he teased her. "Listen, I have a few things to finish up here. Mind if I call you back in a while?"

Nancy agreed, and checked her email as she hobbled into the department store. Carlton Gordon had responded to her emailed request for an interview. She had debated about whether to speak to him as Ann Mallory or as herself, and had decided that she would leave Humphrey to speak to the CFO in character as an investor, while she questioned Carlton Gordon without the persona. After all, Gordon had discovered his daughter's body, and she needed to know the circumstances and anything else he had noticed. Asking as Ann Mallory would seem incredibly crass, and approaching him as a reporter would likely end badly. Honesty seemed like the best policy, especially since she was trying to track down his daughter's killer.

Nancy had only brought the slingbacks because they matched her suit, so she bought a pair of slightly lower heels in the same color. She didn't have many businesslike outfits in her luggage, so she bought a pair of neutral pencil skirts and a few casual but professional tops. While she was walking to the checkout, gingerly to keep from further irritating her already-raw feet, she passed the formalwear department.

Well, she told herself, Bess wouldn't mind so much if Nancy found her something on sale. She flipped through a few of the sale and clearance racks, keeping Bess's size in mind, but she speculatively eyed a one-shoulder taupe gown without making a decision. Bess was the fashionista, the person Nancy always asked for advice, and she didn't want to buy Bess something that just made her roll her eyes in exasperation, even if it was from New York.

As she headed out, on the spur of the moment, Nancy decided to call her Aunt Eloise and see if she was free for dinner. When she responded that she would love to meet her niece in a few hours, Nancy headed back to the hotel to change and put on a pair of infinitely more comfortable sneakers. Her father called when she was just putting on her new heels and disgustedly throwing the slingbacks into the vacant shoebox. She had decided to throw them into the next batch of items meant for goodwill. Surely someone else could use them.

"So you were saying you haven't come to any conclusion yet."

"Yeah. Like you thought, this is going to take more than catching someone in a basic lie. Humphrey's idea about the conflict of interest sounds like a good one, even if he is totally awful in so many other ways."

"He hasn't done anything inappropriate, has he?"

Nancy decided to omit Humphrey's attempts to contribute to her underage drinking, and focused instead on his blind spots when it came to their suspects. She told her father that she would be interviewing Carlton Gordon the next day, and to let her know if he finished with the grand jury and was able to join her. After she promised to call him with any new developments and asked him to pass her love on to Hannah, she told him how much she missed him and hung up.

With her makeup off and her face scrubbed fresh and clean, Nancy felt a hundred times better. She dressed in a pair of straight-leg jeans and funky burgundy and pink sneakers, and a pink and grey button-down shirt. She put half her hair up and scrutinized her reflection for a moment in the mirror, then reached for a tube of lip gloss.

She looked much younger than she had as Ann Mallory, especially with the scattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones exposed. Much less sophisticated, too. She would look like a total slob next to him...

She put Nickerson entirely out of her head as she took the taxi to meet her aunt. Nancy was always ready to try a new restaurant, and when the cab stopped in front of a Sichuan restaurant, she had to laugh. Eloise and her husband Seth were waiting outside, and her aunt greeted her with a warm hug. "It's so wonderful to see you again, Nancy," she said with a smile.

"I'm just happy you two were able to meet me," Nancy replied with her own smile, nodding at Seth. She had met him while he and her aunt were still dating, and even suspected that he might be guilty of a kidnapping—but her suspicions had proven entirely incorrect, happily.

Aunt Eloise couldn't resist the lure of Grand Marnier walnut prawns, and Seth ordered the duck breast confit in red wine citrus sauce with foie gras. Nancy opted for the house special of braised fish in a new-style Vietnamese sauce. As they ate, Nancy filled them in on the case she was investigating for her father, in broad, non-specific strokes. She was pretty sure that Seth wasn't acquainted with any of her suspects, but being cautious felt safer.

"Sounds like it could be dangerous," Seth commented.

"It could be," she agreed, but she had never lingered on such concerns for long. They never stopped her, anyway. "With the way things are going, though, I might be here for longer than I was expecting. So maybe we'll be able to meet again soon."

Then Eloise filled her in on her summer plans, while her schedule was much more relaxed. She paused after a bite of ice cream. "I heard that Sasha was doing well," she said, then looked over at Nancy.

Nancy smiled politely. "That's nice," she commented, and looked down at her own dessert.

She couldn't say that she had loved Sasha Petrov, the Russian ballet dancer she had met during a summer she spent visiting her aunt in the Hamptons, but she had definitely developed strong feelings for him. When the end of the summer had come and Sasha had told her that he would stay in the States for her instead of returning home if that was what she had wanted, she hadn't been able to give him the answer she had feared _he_ wanted. He was exotic, very different from any other man she had met, but their lives were too different to sustain a real relationship. He had returned to Russia and his career had continued to improve, and Nancy didn't feel bitter or sad over it, just happy for him.

It had seemed kinder to fall out of touch with him. She didn't want to linger on what might have been between them, because nothing she could do would change the past, especially not now. He had the life he was meant to have, and so did she. She firmly believed that. It just so happened that that life wasn't meant to be together.

Even while she was still talking to her aunt and uncle, saying her goodbyes, Nancy's mind had turned back toward the case. She couldn't shake the feeling that the confidential deal the group had been discussing on the yacht had something to do with Kate Gordon's death, but she still didn't know how to find out what it was without directly asking someone—which seemed borderline impossible, given her cover persona. She decided to feel her way the next day during her meeting with Carlton Gordon, and if that didn't work, to see if her father had any more luck talking about it with Mark. Maybe, she reflected, her age had made him less confident in her abilities, or otherwise reluctant to discuss the matter.

Maybe she would have more luck seducing the matter out of Lionel Stallings. She couldn't hold back a dramatic shudder in the back of the taxicab, at that thought. Too bad Bess hadn't accompanied her...

Although Nancy had no doubt that Bess would have set her sights on a significantly more handsome suspect, if the goal was to seduce information out of anyone.

Back at the hotel, Nancy went by the front desk and asked for instructions on how to print in the business center, and how much that would cost. She retrieved her laptop and headed downstairs; she could print wirelessly and pick up the printed pages afterward, but she definitely didn't want anyone else seeing what she was working on. She also couldn't see the big picture as clearly just using computer files, and wanted to spread out the documents, to see if any patterns jumped out at her.

Nancy had been hard at work for a few hours, and was just considering finding the closest vending machine and buying something caffeinated, when she sensed someone in the doorway. Humphrey was standing there, and Nancy forced a conciliatory smile onto her face. He was going to handle interviewing the CFO for her, after all, and that was worth at least a smile.

"There you are! I was hoping you hadn't gone to bed for the night."

Nancy glanced back at her laptop screen, both wishing that he would get the hint and completely convinced that he wouldn't. "What's up?"

"Are you sure you don't want to do the CFO thing with me tomorrow? Afterward we could go get some sushi or something. Maybe brainstorm."

On the surface, what he was saying sounded good, but the glint in her eyes told her otherwise. "That might work," she told him. "The sushi and brainstorming thing. It really depends on when I finish interviewing Carlton Gordon." She paused for a moment. "It's just I'm not good at all with figures, and I'd be hopelessly lost if I went along while you were talking to the CFO." She stopped just short of pulling a red-gold strand of hair out of her ponytail and twining it around her fingers with her blue eyes opened wide, but it was a close call. She was a little afraid that doing so definitely _would_ give him the wrong idea, and she didn't want to play the helpless female card and watch him leap gallantly to her defense—by demanding that she accompany him.

"I guess that makes sense," Humphrey said, glancing down. "Did you have a nice dinner?"

Nancy nodded. "I did. Caught up with my aunt and uncle."

"Hmm. I was hoping Vince would be able to have dinner with me, but he had to reschedule."

At the look on Humphrey's face, Nancy sighed internally. "Well, I guess we'll just have to have that sushi lunch tomorrow, then," she said lightly.

"And sake?"

Nancy shook her head, turning her attention back to her computer screen. "Don't push your luck. Goodnight, Humphrey."

He lingered in the doorway, though. "Are you sure you should be down here so late, alone? What if some guy gets drunk and comes in here and tries to start something..."

Nancy glanced up at the security camera in the business center, but decided not to mention it. "I'll be fine," she told him. "I was thinking about turning in soon anyway."

"Really? Because we could go upstairs, you know, get that drink you promised me...?"

At that Nancy very nearly snapped, but he looked both so harmless and so transparently, self-consciously smarmy that she just shook her head. "You and I both know I promised no such thing," she told him, glancing back down at her computer. "And if you keep trying this shit, I'll call my father."

The change in Humphrey's expression was instant. "Oh, come on, Nan, you wouldn't—"

"_Don't_—" _call me that_, Nancy started to say, but she didn't finish. After all, it had worked out pretty well when he had slipped in front of Cantoni, and she didn't see him often enough for him to become accustomed to calling her by the nickname. "Don't try me," she told him. "Get some rest. I think we'll both need it."

Humphrey resisted the urge to make another pickup attempt, for which Nancy was infinitely grateful. While the business center was open twenty-four hours, she didn't want to go upstairs with a ream of paper and fall immediately to sleep without looking it over, so she packed up her laptop and her research findings soon after Humphrey finally gave up and left her alone.

In her room, Nancy turned the television on low and changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and let out a low sigh before she tackled the printouts. She arranged them on the desk, but when that proved too small a surface, she moved the armchair and used the floor in front of her balcony windows.

"Okay," she told the printouts. "Show me what you're hiding."

* * *

When Nancy woke the next morning, she was a little dismayed to find that her sarcastic comment to Humphrey had partially come true. Her head was _swimming_ with figures, and try as she could, she couldn't figure out any real patterns. Maybe, she thought grudgingly, the sushi and brainstorming lunch wasn't such a bad idea. And maybe the key to finding Kate's killer wasn't in the figures at all; maybe she had been the victim of the rage of a jealous lover or ex-lover. Nancy made a mental note to see what she could discover on social media regarding Kate's life. Given her minor socialite status, thanks to her family's wealth, Nancy had a feeling that wouldn't be a difficult task.

In the meantime, Nancy dressed in a blouse and pencil skirt, and though her feet were still a little sore from the day before, her new heels were infinitely more comfortable. Keeping in mind that her youth might not necessarily inspire confidence in Carlton Gordon, and that she still didn't know for sure that he wasn't responsible for his daughter's death, Nancy applied her makeup carefully and checked her ensemble one last time before heading out to flag a cab. She checked her phone and found a text from Humphrey reminding her about their lunch date, and she put her phone back into her purse with a sigh, rolling her eyes.

God. She couldn't even imagine how much easier the case would be going if she _liked_ the person assisting her. Bess and George were invaluable for that very reason, and once her father made it to New York, she was sure they would have it figured out in no time at all.

And then she would have no excuse to see Nickerson again.

Nancy shook her head, putting that thought out of her mind. Bess would get a kick out of hearing about him, and that was good for something, anyway.

Nancy was on her guard from the moment she entered Carlton Gordon's office, but that wasn't so unusual. He was a suspect, after all. She introduced herself and explained that she was assisting in the investigation into Kate's death, without specifying whose investigation she represented.

"Could you tell me about the night of the incident?" Nancy asked, a notebook on her lap and a pen in her hand. She had also activated the voice recorder on her cell phone, but she wanted to jot down her impressions while they spoke.

Carlton turned and glanced through one of the enormous windows, which offered an unparalleled view of the city. His office was spacious and tastefully decorated in shades of grey and black, and a large painting of a bold bright-red geometric design stood out against the otherwise bland, textured grey wallpaper. In MacIntosh's office, Nancy had noticed an extensive "ego wall"—photos of MacIntosh shaking hands with many wealthy people and celebrities. Stallings had had a similar wall, and Parker's desk had held a few framed photos of people Nancy assumed were family members. Other than diplomas in understated frames, Nancy saw only one other wall hanging in Gordon's office: a small black-and-white photo of Carlton, a woman approximately ten years younger than he, and a smiling younger woman between the two Nancy assumed was probably Kate. The only other photos Nancy had seen of the murdered woman were professional head shots.

Carlton had founded the group; he had the most experience of all of them, he was the oldest, but the detritus of those years hadn't accumulated around him. Bennett Group was his, a legacy he had announced every intention of passing along to his daughter. Now that dream had been ruined.

She let him gather his thoughts, glad that Humphrey hadn't come along. Wherever he was, he was doubtless impatient to finish his interview and make their sushi date. Nancy hoped for both their sakes that he was doing a thorough enough job that she wouldn't be forced to go back to interview again after him.

With a sigh, Mr. Gordon turned back to her, and Nancy sat expectantly, a sympathetic expression on her face. For a moment she thought of how her own father would feel in this situation. Nancy was her father's only child, and their relationship was so close that she couldn't imagine how deeply he would be hurt by her loss. Nancy only knew that she would be devastated by her own father's death.

"We were on the yacht to discuss a confidential matter," Carlton began, his gaze down, on the desk blotter.

"Can I ask—whose yacht?"

"Mine," he said. "Though I think I'll sell it now. I can't bear the thought of stepping foot on it ever again."

While Carlton didn't elaborate on what the matter up for discussion was, when Nancy asked specifically if any of the members of the group had dissented during the discussion, Carlton nodded.

"Armstruther—Mark did. He grew quite vehement. But we need only a simple majority vote to make a decision, and as I told the police—Mark wouldn't have had any financial motivation to attack my daughter. Not over what we were discussing that night."

"But there were other discussions?" Nancy asked, sensing an opening. "Other matters which _might_ have been a catalyst?"

Carlton sighed again, shaking his head. "That was the only thing out of the ordinary that happened that night. If Mark doesn't care for the direction of the company's investments, he always has the right to..."

Then Carlton glanced up, realizing that he was thinking aloud, and his face became less open. "We aren't that kind of company," he said neutrally. "And Mark has many other investments, as do the other members of the group. Bennett Group is _my_ primary concern." He shook his head. "Especially now," he murmured.

Nancy's instincts were telling her that Carlton's grief and sorrow were genuine. "You were there that night, though," she continued. "Did you get a sense that any of the other members could have been responsible? Any argument, disagreement, conflict? Any lingering hostility over maybe a bad investment or decision?"

Carlton was shaking his head impatiently before she was even finished. "No, no. Nothing like that. I didn't sense anything like that. But what I can't forget is that one of them, _one_ of them, _must_ have decided to hurt my daughter. And I can't help feeling that I should have done something to stop it. I'm afraid..." he swallowed hard. "I pray that this wasn't done as some sort of warning to me."

"A warning? How so?"

Carlton Gordon shook his head. "I wish I knew," he said quietly. "Because I would give anything to have her back."

After she took him quickly through an account of the discovery of Kate's body, which was clearly still difficult for him to discuss, Nancy left him with her cell number, a sincere apology for his loss, and an invitation to call her if he remembered anything else that could possibly be significant. She waited until she was back in another taxi to check her buzzing cell phone, but was disappointed to discover that it was only a message from Humphrey, not her father telling her that his long-delayed departure was imminent.

_Ready for our brainstorming session, cutie?_

"Shit," Nancy sighed under her breath, absently tilting her feet back on her heels to give them some relief. At this rate, Nancy would have preferred just hiring a damn CPA for the cover and letting Humphrey go back to Illinois, where he would be safely out of her hair.

When the cab pulled up in front of the restaurant Humphrey had selected for their lunch, Nancy was actually impressed. She had almost expected him to opt for some chain restaurant, but she remembered that he wanted to impress her, so of course he would select some venue meant for that purpose.

That realization wasn't disproven by anything she found inside. Humphrey waved her over to a table for two, which irritated her a little, but at least they would be close enough to hear each other if they spoke quietly, and she didn't want their conversation to be public knowledge.

The waitress arrived, and though she had told him repeatedly that she didn't want it, Humphrey ordered a bottle of sake with two cups. Nancy asked about the house special, and the waitress said it was a selection of the chef's choice of both sushi and sashimi. Humphrey immediately consulted his menu, and Nancy guessed that he hadn't known what sashimi was. His look of faint distaste told her he hadn't liked the answer.

He ordered three various sushi rolls with a bowl of warm noodle soup. Nancy, her face impassive, ordered the house special. She couldn't wait to see the look on Humphrey's face when it arrived.

"So did you find out anything during your interview?" Nancy asked as the waitress left with their orders. She unrolled her silverware and draped the napkin in her lap, determined to keep Humphrey on topic as much as she could.

"I had a hunch that maybe the company was in trouble," Humphrey said. "So I asked, off the record, about the payout on Kate's life insurance policy. Due to the circumstances of her death, until the investigation's complete, it won't pay out—and the named beneficiary is supposedly her father."

From their interview that morning, Nancy doubted that would prove much comfort for the man. "Good thinking," she told Humphrey, and his face lit up.

"So you think the dad's behind it?"

Nancy shook her head. "I don't," she admitted. "But I'm not eliminating him entirely from the suspect list yet. So is the company in trouble?"

"From everything I could see, no. Quite the opposite." Humphrey reached for an edamame pod as the waitress delivered their appetizer, his sake, and Nancy's water. "They're doing well."

"Well enough that they wouldn't desperately need whatever deal they were debating?"

Humphrey shrugged. "Well, that's the thing—I don't know. They want more money; of course they would. But then, that decision wasn't necessarily a deal. After all, were they there to vote on ousting someone from the company?"

"I haven't found out yet about the purpose of the meeting, just that it was confidential. Did you hear something?"

Humphrey shook his head. "But what if Kate was tired of waiting in her father's shadow and wanted to stage a hostile takeover? After all, the old man's apparently in good health, and probably isn't going to kick the bucket anytime soon. Maybe she decided to oust him, and he couldn't take the betrayal."

"And then _shot her_?" Nancy retorted, shaking her head. "Sounds farfetched."

Humphrey rolled his eyes at her. "But possible?"

"Of course it's possible." Nancy picked up an edamame pod. "Let's keep looking, though."

"You _like_ him," Humphrey accused her, pouring himself a small cup of sake.

"I just don't get that kind of vibe off him. I don't know." She shrugged. "I'm sure everyone has something to hide, though."

When Nancy's entree arrived, right before Humphrey's, she was gratified to see his veiled expression of horror. The sushi was visually appealing enough, wrapped in seaweed and sticky rice, but the sashimi was simply sliced raw fish and other seafood. Nancy poured soy sauce into a small bowl and mixed some wasabi into it with her chopsticks, then glanced up at Humphrey just to find him staring at what she was doing. She deftly manipulated the wooden sticks around a portion of unadorned raw salmon.

"Want to try some?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Humphrey assured her, directing his gaze hurriedly back to his own plate.

Nancy was sure they had missed or overlooked something, but she wasn't sure what it was. If greed hadn't been the motivation in Kate's murder, and Nancy still wasn't sure that it hadn't been, but they hadn't yet found conclusive proof either way—she was inclined to set her investigation on the other common motivation: jealousy or revenge.

"I think that if anyone in the group knew what Kate was doing, who she was seeing, it would be someone near her own age," Nancy mused aloud toward the end of their meal. "And the best candidates would be your buddy and Nickerson."

"Probably," Humphrey said with a shrug. "I'll take Nickerson."

Nancy had to clamp down on her immediate objection, but apparently Humphrey could see it in her face. "What? You were saying that you wanted to interview Vince alone anyway," he pointed out. "Perfect opportunity."

She had to admit that was true. "And I still need to check and see if her social media profiles are locked down," she continued.

Humphrey tilted his head. "What, you're cool with swapping? After the way you were looking at that guy—"

Nancy reached for her water glass, damning the blush she could already feel rising in her cheeks. "It was nothing," she said. "You're right. It makes sense for you to go see him." Even though every fiber of her being wanted to object.

_But,_ she reminded herself, _at least Humphrey could be somewhat impartial where Nickerson's concerned—and you won't be swayed by knowing Cantoni's brother._

"It sure didn't look like nothing," Humphrey retorted, and Nancy was saved from replying when his phone went off. She took another, longer sip of water, hoping that it would help her cool down.

Humphrey's face lit up, but when he glanced back up at her, he looked almost sarcastic. "Guess you get your wish after all," he said. "Vince just asked if I wanted to play some racquetball."

"Sounds like a good opportunity to talk to him," Nancy replied. "Just remember, he's a suspect, okay?"

"Same to you," Humphrey replied, raising his eyebrows.

They split a cab back to the hotel so Humphrey could change for his meeting, and Nancy was hoping he would use the time to lose some of his sake buzz as well. She headed back to her own room, calling her father as soon as she was inside and able to kick off her heels.

"Still stuck here," he reported mournfully. "Any good leads?"

"A few," Nancy replied, filling him in on the life insurance angle, and Humphrey's theory about a hostile takeover. "One possibility he didn't consider, though, was that someone _else_ could have been attempting a hostile takeover," she mused. "And maybe Kate was threatening to tell her father, and _that_ was why she was killed."

"That does sound like a good theory," her father pointed out.

"Do you think you could ask Mark about it?" Nancy unfastened her pencil skirt and stepped out of it, then sat down at the edge of her bed, breathing a sigh of relief. She could already see the jean shorts she was about to put on.

"You don't want to?"

She explained her fear that Mark didn't trust her enough to talk about whatever the matter had been. "Maybe he'll open up to you, or at least give you some indication. In the meantime, though, I'm going to see if I can track down any of Kate's friends. Maybe one of them knows if she was seeing someone else in the group, or if she was worried about one of them in particular."

"Sounds good, Nan. Keep me posted, and I'll let you know as _soon_ as I'm able to book a flight."

Nancy hung up and pulled the sheaf of papers representing her research to date out of her laptop bag, inspecting them carefully to make sure none of them looked like they were out of place or shuffled. She pulled on her shorts and fastened them, then glanced at her phone. Given his effect on her in person, maybe she could just interview Nickerson about Kate over the phone. She just wasn't sure how she was going to make it seem natural. Maybe, she considered, floating Humphrey's theory that Kate had been killed after an attempted hostile takeover...

But if that were true, then why wouldn't Mark have said he and _Kate_ were the only dissenting voices?

Nancy sighed, wishing any of the theories they had come up with so far would work, and reached for her phone and Nickerson's business card. Almost immediately, her heart was beating traitorously fast.

The secretary—_executive assistant,_ Nancy corrected herself with a sarcastic smile—who answered the call sounded businesslike and crisp. When Nancy asked if Mr. Nickerson had any time available that day or possibly the next, the assistant replied that he was out of the office and she was not sure when he would return, but she would pass along Nancy's request for an interview.

"Thank you. Please tell him it's a minor matter, and I would be happy to discuss it with him over the phone. He doesn't need to schedule any in-person time." Nancy hated how her heart sped up.

"I will."

Nancy took off her makeup and changed into a UC t-shirt, then sat down cross-legged on the bed. It took her a few minutes to locate Nickerson's biography in the stack.

He was seven years older than she, Nancy noticed immediately. According to an interview she had found on the Forbes website, in a section profiling promising young investors, Nickerson had been third in his class at Harvard. He came from a formerly wealthy family with connections—which made Nancy think, rather sourly, of Humphrey. However, from his answers and the sketch of his life so far, Nickerson seemed like a genuinely intelligent guy with a killer instinct for investing. Bennett Group was, as he had told her, only one of his many projects. The journalist who had interviewed him asked about a clean energy company, which had turned into one of his main projects. The thumbnail photo accompanying the article showed him posing with a few engineers, looking at schematics. The photo was grainy, but she traced his features again with a slow, discerning gaze.

_Suspect,_ she reminded herself. _Maybe even, possibly, Kate's jealous lover, or a spurned associate. You have no idea yet._

With a sigh, Nancy put his bio aside, then began to spread out her papers again. Humphrey had chastised her for wasting so many trees the night before, telling her proudly that he kept all his research digital. Nancy had felt a little guilty over the wastefulness, but a handful of URLs and PDFs just wasn't the same as seeing it all out in front of her, where she could make connections.

Nancy spent the next few hours going over interviews with her other suspects, transcribing her notes from her interview with Carlton Gordon, and checking social media for Kate's history. Many, many people had expressed their sympathy and condolences online after Kate's death, but Nancy was having some trouble discerning which ones were business associates, and which were close friends. Kate had kept her basic information available for public view, but of the nearly five hundred photos Nancy could see that Kate was tagged in, only those made at public events were viewable, those showing her smiling and shaking hands, drinking cocktails, posing with other investors and professionals. She needed to see the real Kate if she was going to be able to determine who had killed her.

Nancy checked her phone once her stomach started growling a little. Humphrey, amazingly, hadn't texted her to ask about dinner; presumably he had made plans with Vince. She finished her glass of water and stood, stretching with a quiet groan. She vaguely remembered seeing a room service menu, but it was probably on the research-covered desk. She didn't want to disturb her system, so she decided to just call the front desk and ask for something basic, like a chicken sandwich with fries.

Her hand was on the receiver when her cell phone rang, startling her a little. She reached for her cell, betting herself that Humphrey was calling to invite her to dinner, and she was already trying to mentally compose an excuse that wouldn't result in his saying they could order room service together.

The number showing on her caller ID had a New York area code, though.

"Hello?" Nancy answered cautiously.

"Ms. Mallory?"

"Yes," Nancy replied, pursing her lips as she glanced at her alarm clock. Business hours were over, but the voice sounded crisp and businesslike—

"I'm calling from Mr. Nickerson's office. He's ready for your interview."

"Oh," Nancy said. "Great. I'll hold."

"No... he's sending a car for you. It's at your hotel, in fact. Right now."


	4. Chapter 4

Nancy looked down at her jean shorts and university t-shirt in dismay. "Can I have ten minutes to prepare?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound as flustered as she felt.

"Of course. I'll inform the driver."

"Thank—" _you_, Nancy completed quietly as the call clicked off.

Hurriedly Nancy gathered her research notes into an organized pile and put it into her laptop bag, just in case housekeeping or anyone else happened to get into her room. She frantically searched through her luggage and recent purchases, and settled on the black pencil skirt with a blue ruched top that clung to her curves. After the hasty reapplication of her makeup, she gave herself a once-over, and was pleased by what she saw. She looked professional, but a little alluring too; perfect for her vaguely airheaded Ann Mallory persona. She grabbed her crossbody purse and slipped back into her pumps, wincing a little as she did.

If Humphrey returned and didn't know where she was...

Nancy called just to let him know that she was going to see Nickerson. She didn't like that they were meeting after hours, that they would likely be alone, that the office would likely be empty—

Although that thought sent a shiver down her spine.

After four rings, her call went to Humphrey's voicemail. "Nickerson called and wants me to interview him in person," she said. "If I get in trouble I'll call you, but if you don't hear from me by... oh, two hours from now, definitely call me. Hope your interview with Cantoni is going well."

Even so late in the day, the temperature outdoors was almost oppressively hot, and Nancy was glad she had opted not to wear any pantyhose. A black Lincoln Towncar was parked in the drop-off area in front of the hotel, the driver standing at the door.

"Ms. Mallory?"

Nancy nodded, and was grateful when the bellhop outside didn't bat an eyelash. She and Humphrey had checked in under their real names, but she doubted the bellhop remembered their arrival or their names anyway.

The interior of the car was sumptuous. The seats were upholstered in leather, and everything looked spotless. Even the luxury of the car, however, couldn't make them move any faster in the congestion and traffic, and more than a few times only the driver's skillful maneuvering seemed to keep them out of a horrific accident. Nancy kept an eye on her cell phone, waiting for Humphrey to call or text her upon receipt of her voicemail, but her phone stayed silent.

_You're being an idiot,_ she told herself again. _This is a situation out of your control and only Humphrey has any idea of where you possibly could be—and that's only once he checks his voicemail. Foolish, foolish._

Keeping her expression impassive, Nancy reached into her purse and felt for the small can of pepper spray she kept there. It wasn't much, but it would work. All she needed was the element of surprise and some rapid judo moves.

The driver pulled up in front of the office building where she and Humphrey had met Nickerson the day before, and Nancy recognized the same administrative assistant standing out front. With a polite smile, the brunette ushered Nancy inside and to the elevator. The lobby's lighting was muted after hours, and the building itself seemed quiet.

Nancy was surprised when the assistant pressed the button for the topmost story. "Are we going to the office?"

The other woman shook her head. "The roof. I hope you don't get airsick."

Nancy blinked. "I—I don't," she said, shaking her head. Her misgivings were only growing stronger.

The brunette opened the roof access door, revealing a helicopter that was standing, waiting. "The helicopter will take you to Mr. Nickerson," the assistant explained.

For a few seconds Nancy stood, considering. At least Humphrey would have some chance of finding her if she stayed at Nickerson's office building. Once she boarded the helicopter, though, she could end up anywhere, and definitely in infinitely more danger.

"And bring me back?" Nancy finally asked.

The assistant nodded. "Of course," she said, and her keen eyes sparkled. "Whenever that might be."

Once Nancy figured out the implication, she blushed a little, then turned and headed for the helicopter without another word.

The small craft moved easily over the city's congestion and traffic, and Nancy couldn't help but marvel at the view. While she was instrument rated for both small aircraft and helicopters, she hadn't seen the city from one before, and the view was stunning. They headed east, but the longer the flight was, the more violently her stomach churned, and she was glad that she hadn't eaten dinner before she had received the call. She had never been prone to airsickness or motion sickness before, but her nerves were getting the better of her.

The helicopter touched down at a small helipad near a marina, and when another assistant escorted her to a berth, Nancy's stomach flipped. A large, beautiful yacht was in the slip, and she couldn't help wondering if the choice was an intentional allusion to Kate's death, and possibly her own fate if she continued her investigation.

Then Nickerson appeared on deck, and Nancy's heart was in her throat at the sight of him. He looked relaxed and confident, in a pair of tailored grey slacks and a white button-down, and every bit as drop-dead handsome as she remembered. "Glad you were able to make it out," he called, waving her on board with a smile that made her knees feel weak.

Nancy fought the urge to reach for her phone and check it one last time. She hadn't felt it vibrate or ring, though; Humphrey apparently hadn't checked his voicemail yet. She swallowed hard and went on board.

"So is this yours?"

Nickerson nodded with a smile. "She's all mine. And beautiful, if I do say so myself."

Nancy nodded in agreement. "Your upper speed has to be, what—nineteen, twenty knots? Unless you've put in a custom engine."

Nickerson raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "I have," he told her. "Haven't really had the chance to take her out and give her a good test run yet, though. I hope you haven't had dinner."

"I haven't," she confirmed, crossing her arms. "I only had a few questions to ask you, though, and I really didn't mean for you to go to all this inconvenience; we could have done this over the phone."

"Oh?" he replied with a smile, then glanced down at her outfit. "Let's just say that I wanted to give this... my personal attention."

Nancy shook her head. "Mr. Nickerson," she began, feeling that damned blush begin to creep up her cheeks again.

"Please, call me Ned." He opened the door to the cabin and gestured for her to follow. "Ms. Mallory."

Something in the way he said her assumed name tipped Nancy off, and while a part of her was afraid to follow him inside, another part of her reasoned that if he had wanted to kill her, he had already had more than ample opportunity to do so. She walked slowly, anyway, and kept her body angled toward his so she could keep him in sight.

It was hard to take her eyes off him, regardless. Every time their gazes met, she felt both intimately aware of every beat of her own heart, every blush—and like she was outside herself.

"I've done some research on you," she said neutrally, as he gestured for her to take a seat on a plush, overstuffed bench beside a gleaming wooden dinner table.

"And I've done some on you as well," he replied before she could finish, and when his dark-eyed gaze locked to hers, she found herself entirely speechless. "Just finished your second year at University of Chicago, twenty years old, only daughter of universally respected criminal defense attorney Carson Drew. Majoring in political science even though you had a very impressive career as an amateur detective before you had even entered college. And, not entirely coincidentally, Carson Drew has been retained to defend Mark Armstruther against potential charges in the case of Kate Gordon's murder."

Nancy swallowed against her suddenly dry throat and tilted her head, her gaze still locked to Ned's. While it was almost a relief to not maintain her cover anymore, she still found the intensity of Ned's gaze unnerving, almost disarming, and the speed with which he had discovered her true identity made her wonder how many of the other suspects had as well.

"So you wouldn't mind telling me about what you did and witnessed the night of Kate Gordon's murder."

Ned had just opened his mouth when the sudden throb of engines made Nancy stand up, alarmed. "Where—"

Ned held up his hand, palm outward. "Relax," he said. "I told you, I haven't had a chance to take her out yet. But I'll be sure to have you back by bedtime, if that's what you're worried about."

Just hearing him speak the word _bed_ made her feel almost flustered again. "You're sure."

He nodded. "Definitely. My chef is preparing our dinner as we speak. We'll just take a nice little trip."

Slowly Nancy sat down again, and when she realized she had a death-grip on her purse, she made herself release it. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "But if you know so much about me, I'm sure you know that I... well, I'm prepared to defend myself."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he told her, his voice low.

Nancy took a long breath. "So what happened that night?"

Ned sat back, and Nancy studied him closely, looking for any tell or sign that he was about to lie to her. "Seriously, relax," he said. "I honestly didn't invite you out here to—to attack you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

"What..." When he glanced down at her folded arms, Nancy did too, and reluctantly relaxed them from the defensive posture. She couldn't help it; he was a suspect, and her guard was up.

Doubly so, because he seemed to be able to cut through it so easily.

"After the meeting on Carlton's yacht that night—"

Nancy couldn't help it. "What was the topic of the meeting?"

"I can't discuss that." While he said it with a straight face and in all seriousness, his expression lightened a little when she frowned. "I'm sorry. It's confidential."

"I understand."

He paused for a moment. "After the meeting ended, we had decided that we'd need to have another, and we were prepared to stay overnight and tackle it again in the morning."

"Two questions," Nancy said. "First, I know you can't discuss the topic, but was Mark a dissenting vote, and was his the only one? Second, has the topic been... settled?"

"To answer your second question first, no, a decision hasn't been made. We decided to put it on hold until Carlton felt—well, until..." He made a gesture, and Nancy nodded in understanding. Until he was ready to go back to work after his daughter's death. "To the other... are you asking for confirmation of something he's already told you?"

Nancy paused for a moment, but since Ned had already guessed the reason, she nodded slowly. She wasn't breaking confidentiality because Ned had been there during the meeting in question, or at least she was pretty sure that logic would hold.

Ned let out a long sigh. "Yes. He was."

Nancy leaned forward, her gaze locked to his face. "Was the meeting to discuss a hostile takeover of the company?"

"You know I can't tell you that." Nancy was just a little amused when Ned's gaze flicked to her cleavage, then back up to her face again.

"It wasn't," she decided.

"Oh?"

The corner of her mouth turned up in a faint smile. "No sign of shocked surprise on your face."

"So now you're playing human lie detector, Miss Drew?"

Nancy propped her chin in her hand. "Sometimes. So, after the meeting..."

His grin became a smile, but his eyes were still bright and fixed on her. "So after the meeting I went back to my stateroom to check some emails."

"Alone?"

He nodded. "I remember hearing the shot, but I told myself it couldn't have been what it sounded like. I dismissed it. I hate that, but from what they told me, as soon as I heard it, she was dead. Even if I'd gone to check on it immediately..." He still shook his head, though.

"And then what happened?"

"Maybe five or six minutes later, I think? I heard something was wrong. Running, people shouting. Blood on Carlton's hands. He... he kept saying it was going to be all right until it was clear that she was beyond help. Then..."

Nancy waited a moment, as Ned frowned. "Were you and Kate close? I know you said you didn't know her very well, but I thought maybe you had seen her outside work...?"

Ned shook his head. "She seemed honest and like a pretty decent person, as decent as anyone is in this business. Maybe a little too sympathetic sometimes, but it's too easy to go the other way. And she had her father's ear, that was for sure. He trusted her immensely, but I'm sure you know he intended to pass on the controlling partnership to her."

Nancy nodded. "But the matter under discussion, you said Kate didn't dissent from the rest of the group's opinion? She and Carlton and the rest of you were in agreement about whatever it was?"

Ned was quiet for a moment. "Has anyone told you that you have the most gorgeous eyes?"

"You don't want to talk about it, I get that, but I'm trying to find a motive here..."

"They're this beautiful perfect shade of sapphire blue."

Nancy pursed her lips, hoping that she could keep herself from blushing. He was studying her so intensely. "If Kate wasn't close to you, was she close to anyone else in the group, other than her father?"

Ned shrugged. "I can't really say. I'll be honest with you, once I set my attention on my current project, I devoted a lot of my time and energy toward it—"

"The clean energy initiative?"

He nodded, his lips curving up again. "You really did some research," he said appreciatively.

"Of course I did."

"I'm flattered, Miss Drew."

She shook her head. "Don't be. I've been doing a lot of research on the entire group."

"Because I'm... am I actually a suspect in this?"

Nancy dipped her head once. "Everyone on the boat is a suspect. Except Kate, because I'm given to understand no GSR was found on her hands—that's—"

"Gunshot residue," Ned said with a tilt of his head, that same incredulous grin on his face. "Oh, this is—Wow."

"Someone killed Kate Gordon, and for all I know, you are that person."

Ned raised his eyebrows. "So when a person you think might very well be a murderer asks you to dinner, on his _yacht_, you just go along with it?"

"I can defend myself," she replied, crossing her arms again.

"I'm sure you can, Miss Drew. So you've told your boyfriend where you are—"

"He's not my boyfriend," Nancy replied, immediately. "And of course he knows."

"Bullshit," Ned replied. "To the second, not the first. You looked like you wanted to punch him when he walked back in from his bathroom break, that was for sure."

Nancy swallowed her response. "I weighed the risks and thought you were more likely to try to—to seduce me tonight, than to kill me and toss me overboard," she told him, trying to keep her face impassive.

"_Try_?" he repeated, and damn it, this time that blush really did rise in her cheeks. "The night is young. Who says we have to limit our options to just one?"

Nancy glanced down, then cleared her throat when her gaze met his again. Damn him, he looked cool and calm, his gaze intent on hers, always on her. And those eyes. Holy God, she could drown so easily in those eyes.

He smiled again. "So what was my motive, Nancy? Why did I kill Kate Gordon?"

"Well, you've been trying your best to convince me that the two of you weren't dating, so you might have had a secret relationship. Or maybe you mistook her for someone else that night and killed her by mistake, but you can't admit it because that would implicate you."

"You mean I mistook her for the only other woman on the boat, a blonde ten years older than Kate, and easily four inches shorter?" Ned crossed his arms and tilted his head, but that same almost teasing smile was on his face. "Sounds like a good theory."

Nancy made a face at him. "Kate had her father's ear, you said," she continued. "Maybe Kate had changed her mind and was going along with whatever Mark's objection was, but you had to kill her before she attempted to sway her father and the rest of the partners."

"So I needed to both kill Kate and discredit Mark at the same time," Ned mused. "Because, if I really _am_ a criminal mastermind, that's been my plan all along. Of course I wanted to get Mark out of the way so I could pass the vote; while he's under suspicion of Kate's death, of course he's on leave and we all give lip service to our assurances that we totally support him and believe he had nothing to do with this." Ned leaned forward. "Because it's easier, after all. If Mark did this, then he'll be arrested, tried, and put away, but if it's anyone else, someone else in the group, a business partner..."

Nancy folded her arms. "So if it wasn't you, tell me who had the motive to do this. Who hated either Kate or Mark enough to do this—and if this really was done _just_ to discredit Mark, that _really_ seems like overkill." She grimaced. "No pun intended."

"Besides, if I—or any other member of the group—wanted Mark dead, I should think he'd _be_ dead," Ned pointed out. "After all, apparently someone had both motive and means."

"But maybe not opportunity." Nancy could feel that same exhilaration that came over her whenever she was on a roll.

Just then, as Ned was opening his mouth again, the inner door opened, and a man in a white chef's coat entered. "Dinner is served," he announced with a smile. "I hope you both enjoy."

It took Ned a second to refocus. "Thank you, Louis. We'll be right there. In the salon?"

Louis nodded. "Just as you asked."

The sun had been setting as Nancy approached the yacht, and in the time they had been talking, night had fallen. Ned escorted her to the salon, which boasted an almost panoramic view of the ocean around them. She had grown accustomed to the throbbing of the engines, but being able to see their almost eerily dark surroundings—pinpricks of light marked other crafts, but they were distant, and it was as though she and Ned truly were alone for miles around, with only his silent staff as occasional chaperones.

As he had pointed out, if she truly did believe he was responsible for Kate's death, she had taken a huge risk. He could easily overpower her and kill her, especially if he were armed.

But she didn't sense that in him. She usually trusted her own instincts, but when she was in his presence, she felt only an overwhelming nervousness, and it wasn't because she didn't trust him. If anything, she felt the opposite. Just the lightest contact between them when he cupped her elbow and walked with her into the salon was enough to send her heart speeding.

It was hard to think clearly around him. It was hard to discuss the case, to act impassive, when she almost ached to touch him. She felt so incredibly naive, drunk with wonder and desire, when she looked at him.

No one, _no one_, in her entire life, had _ever_ made her feel that way.

Nancy forced herself to focus on the case again as he pulled out a chair for her. The lighting in the salon had been dimmed, and the room was paneled in rich, warm polished wood. The carpet and upholstery were pale blue, and the table was covered in a white line tablecloth. A pair of lit candles in brass candlesticks served as the centerpiece.

Ned handed her a black napkin, which she draped over her lap with an appreciative smile. His manners were impeccable, and despite herself, she found she was utterly charmed by that. He took the seat opposite her.

"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I have a feeling that Louis may very well have outdone himself this time."

Nancy smiled again, then glanced up as Louis entered, another white-jacketed assistant with him carrying two covered plates. One was placed in front of each of them, and the covers removed with a flourish.

"For the first course," Louis announced, "we have oven-roasted hen of the woods with steamed mussels and toasted pistachios."

Nancy looked down at her plate, fighting to keep her expression impassive. It looked as beautiful as any plate she had seen in a stylish restaurant, and when she forked the first bite into her mouth, she couldn't keep herself from closing her eyes in bliss.

"Good, isn't it," Ned said with a smile. "Louis is amazing. I can't even count the number of times people have tried to poach him after I've entertained."

Nancy swallowed her first bite and somehow kept herself from moaning. "He's worth every penny," she told Ned. "If I had him cooking for me, I don't know how I'd be able to stay in my wardrobe for long."

"Want to know my secret?" Ned winked. "A very well-equipped gym."

For the second course, Louis brought out a wine-poached foie gras with baby fennel and a savory caramel. The third course was baked quail with potatoes au gratin, asparagus and a light lemon-garlic sauce. When it was time for dessert, Nancy wasn't sure how she would be able to eat another bite, but then she saw the individual pear tartlets topped with hand-whipped cream and slivered honey-roasted almonds, and she couldn't turn down a taste.

As Nancy sat back once their dessert plates had been whisked away, she chuckled.

"What?"

"I was just thinking that if I've misjudged you and this was my last meal... well, at least it was a damned good one."

Ned grinned. "I'm sure Louis will be glad to hear it. I told him that if he didn't utterly stun you, I'd ship him off to the Navy."

"You did not."

"I did at least think about it." Ned's eyes were twinkling in the candlelight, and the mood between them had become far too intimate, too familiar. Nancy glanced down, but all too quickly she was looking up at him again, her heart in her throat. The butterflies in her stomach had meant she hadn't even been able to finish all of any plate, and she knew she would need to go soon, but she could talk to him all night, easily.

He had known Kate. He could be either an invaluable resource, or the source of intentional misinformation, if he was responsible for Kate's death.

Or, Nancy considered, he was complicit without being directly responsible; that was always a possibility, too. She was reminded of other scenarios she had read about, other cases where both everyone and no one seemed to have a motive.

Her cell phone chirped in her purse, and Nancy glanced over at it. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's all right. I'll be on the deck, if you need some privacy."

Nancy gave him a grateful smile, pulling out her phone once she was alone. She saw a missed voicemail from Humphrey, and when she checked it, his voice was garbled, but clear enough for her to understand the gist. He was worried about her, and back at the hotel.

Nancy composed a brief text message back. _I'm fine, I'll see you back at the hotel. I'll let you know when I'm on the way there. Everything OK._ She had to attempt to send it three times before it went through, though, and she hoped it actually had.

Nancy dabbed at her lips one last time with her napkin, reapplied her lipstick, and blew out the candles before she joined Ned on the deck. The view was spectacular from the inside, but amazing from the outside.

"You weren't kidding about what you told Louis, were you," Nancy commented. She could see a silver bucket of ice, two empty flutes, the neck of a champagne bottle in the bucket.

"I might have been," Ned said, with a half-smile. "I have to say, this has definitely been a first ride to remember."

Nancy was glad that the darkness was probably enough to hide her blush. "Thank you for dinner. It was spectacular. And please pass my compliments on to the chef."

"I will. Champagne?"

Nancy's gaze went from the bottle to Ned's face. "As lovely as tonight has been, I really should be getting back," she told him.

"Ahh. The boyfriend called?"

"The _associate_ called," she corrected him, crossing her arms. "And I think you said you'd have me back by bedtime."

"There are beds on board," he told her with a smile, but he glanced up, then made a twirling gesture with his hand. Almost immediately Nancy heard the throb of the engines slow.

"Thank you."

"You never answered me. Champagne?"

She gave him a sardonic smile. "Are you trying to ply me with liquor, Mr. Nickerson?"

"You haven't even _begun_ to see me ply," he teased her in return, but she could hear the challenge in his voice. "Nancy."

After a deep breath, Nancy gave him a slight nod. "One," she told him, reluctantly.

She wouldn't even drink around Humphrey, and she had known him most of her _life_. Nancy didn't understand why, but the more time she spent with Ned, the less she believed the man pouring her a flute of champagne would ever hurt her, or take advantage of her. He just didn't seem like that kind of person.

But she couldn't _know_. Not this quickly.

They were on the way back to the mainland, and a part of her was sorry that she would soon be leaving him. They sat down with their champagne on one of the benches on the deck, the wind blowing through her honey-gold hair. The stars glittered coldly overhead.

"It's so beautiful out here."

"It really is," he agreed, but when she glanced at him, she saw he was gazing directly at her. She looked down, focusing on her champagne flute instead.

"How did you figure out who I was so quickly?" she asked, then looked up again. "Where did I slip up?"

Ned smiled. "You didn't," he told her. "It wasn't that."

"So Humphrey did?"

Ned shook his head. "From the first second I set eyes on you, I knew that I needed to get to know you better," he murmured. "I wanted to surprise you with a little gift at your hotel, but I found that Ann Mallory wasn't registered there. A young woman matching her description named Nancy Drew was, though."

Nancy was sure she was blushing again. "Have you told your partners at Bennett Group?"

Ned shook his head. "I haven't."

"Can I ask you... not to mention it? I'm still narrowing down my suspect list, and I'm afraid that if they knew I was representing Mark's interests, they might not be as forthcoming with information. Especially the one of you who decided to frame him for murder."

"That's a large favor to ask," Ned told her solemnly, then reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The lightest brush of the ball of his thumb against her cheek made Nancy glad she was sitting down; the euphoria she felt, combined with the lightness from the champagne, made her weak in the knees.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But I might just ask a favor in return."

Nancy covered her momentary speechlessness at the intensity in his gaze by taking a sip of champagne. "So as we were saying, someone else clearly had the means, motive, and opportunity to kill Kate, and possibly the means and motive to go after Mark as well." She paused. "I have a hunch that you're generally very perceptive—everything I read about you said you had an uncanny instinct for investing, and while you may not know all your partners as well as your best friends, I don't think you would be working with them unless you'd sized them up."

Ned nodded, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. "I have," he said. "And my instincts when it comes to people are generally good. Like you, for instance."

Nancy glanced down again, trying to keep herself from smiling. "So who would you guess is behind this? Assuming, of course, it isn't you."

"Oh, Miss Drew, I _insist_ that you keep me on the suspect list," he told her, reaching for the champagne bottle again, raising his eyebrows at her after he refilled his own flute. "And that you interview me again, _often_. You know, we really must have a toast. To imperfect beginnings."

Nancy shook her head, tucking another lock of hair back behind her ear, but handed over her flute for a refill anyway. Her gaze was locked to his as they clicked glasses.

"To imperfect beginnings," she repeated, then took a sip.

They discussed the case until the yacht began to slow as it approached the marina. Nancy felt a pang in her heart as the pilot expertly maneuvered the craft into her berth. Her second flute of champagne had been finished some time ago, and while her mind was racing a hundred miles an hour thanks to her discussion with Ned, she hated that their night was coming to an end.

Ned offered her a hand up, and Nancy's stomach flipped as she accepted his hand and stood. "Thank you for accepting my invitation, and proving unparalleled company," he said, his head tipped down so he could gaze directly into her eyes.

"And thank you," she murmured. "I'd be most obliged if you continue to not kill me."

Ned chuckled and squeezed her hand, but kept his grip on her. "I think I've decided on what I'll accept as payment for the favor you asked," he told her. "For keeping your secret. Do you like to dance, Miss Drew?"

Nancy searched his eyes. "With the right partner," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmm. I'd be _most obliged_," he said, with a ludicrous gesture, "if you would clear your calendar for Saturday night."

"I'll see what I can do," she said with a smile. "It's not very gallant to blackmail a poor, defenseless girl who is depending on your discretion, sir."

"It isn't," he agreed. "But you are no poor, defenseless girl. Nevertheless, you can definitely depend on my discretion. I am very discreet."

The flush in her cheeks deepened. "I'm sure you are," she murmured, and looked down.

He escorted her to the front of the boat, and Nancy made sure she had her purse. When Ned reached for her hand again, she found a small part of herself wishing that he would ask her to stay, for just a little while longer. She already knew that she wouldn't have the strength to turn him down, and she hated that.

"Saturday," he said, lifting her hand to his face, and he brushed a kiss against her knuckles, his gaze locked to hers.

Nancy suppressed the shiver she felt go down her spine. "Goodnight, Mr. Nickerson."

"Until we meet again, Miss Drew."


	5. Chapter 5

By Friday, Nancy had dragged Humphrey on another round of the suspects, and from everything she could tell Ned had kept his promise to her. None of them acted like they were suspicious of her at all. In fact, just as they had the first time, most of them ignored her. Nancy took the time to gossip with the secretaries and assistants, though, since they might know more than the partners actually did.

When Nancy called Mr. Nickerson's office, she was told that he was out of town, but she came by anyway to ask a few more questions. The assistant who had brought Nancy to the helicopter was there, and her expression was one of barely veiled contempt. Nancy concentrated her efforts on one of the other assistants, and reminded herself that the brunette had no idea what had passed between them. At least, Nancy was pretty sure she didn't. All she saw was a woman her boss apparently was trying to seduce—and, given the length of time they had been alone together on the yacht, he easily could have succeeded, for all the brunette knew.

Nancy kept in touch with her father so he would be abreast of developments, but his schedule meant he wasn't even able to make it to the city for the weekend. Nor would there have been any point, since the offices would have been closed, and the partners busy with their own plans. He was holding out hope for Monday, but Nancy had done all the questioning she could; what was left was figuring out who was lying and who wasn't.

On Friday morning, Nancy sat down on the bed in her hotel room and considered everything she had learned, and for a moment wished that she had someone to discuss the case with in person. Humphrey was the most logical candidate, but since she had been out to see Ned that night, Humphrey's teasing about it had been relentless—and his jealousy was clear.

Many of the assistants, Nancy had discovered during her questioning, thought that Kate Gordon had something going on with Cantoni, some sort of relationship. Nancy had asked Humphrey about it, but Humphrey had rolled his eyes. Cantoni had a reputation to uphold, and he had been dating a series of stick-thin ultra-gorgeous models. While Kate was wealthy and influential, she had definitely been neither stick-thin nor ultra-gorgeous.

Nancy glanced over at her cell phone. She had been fighting the urge to call Ned, but she still wanted him to make the first move. He hadn't followed up on his request to take her out that Saturday night, and anticipation of whatever he might have had planned was enough to drive her to distraction. Maybe another trip on his yacht or another special evening...

Nancy's stomach flipped, and she had to force herself to grab a strawberry breakfast bar to eat along with her morning coffee. She could tell that Ned was enjoying their little game, and she would have been content to let him take his time, under other circumstances. However, once she figured out who had murdered Kate Gordon, she would be on her way back to Chicago, and away from him.

She loved solving cases. She had never dreaded finding the solution to a case quite so much before.

_After all, what if he killed her?_

_Then it's better to know now, before I do anything more foolish._

Try as she might, though, Nancy couldn't make herself believe Ned had anything to do with it. She wasn't sure she could bear it if he had.

And, she told herself, she had thoroughly enjoyed discussing the case with him. That was what she wanted. Maybe a nice leisurely lunch, being able to go over her theories of the case with him, being able to see him again...

She wanted so badly to see him again. She had been intensely disappointed when he hadn't been in his office during her visit. She couldn't imagine having more than two or three additional opportunities to see him before she would have to leave, and that knowledge made her feel almost miserable.

Nancy had tried to tell herself over and over that what she was feeling was just a side effect of her natural exhilaration over the case, and she had to believe that. She couldn't be in love with him. He was just incredibly fascinating; that was all. Fascinating and a suspect.

Once she finished her breakfast bar, Nancy tossed the wrapper into the trash and swallowed the last sip of her coffee. "All right. Let's start at the beginning," she told herself, and went back through her papers. The stack had grown considerably since she had arrived, and she began to separate the financial records from the professional biographies and personal information, just to impose some order upon it. When her stomach began to growl, she picked up the paper she was studying and absently began to gather her clothes so she could take a shower.

Interregnum. She couldn't remember where she had seen that name, but it was ringing some distant bells...

Still pondering that, along with everything else she was considering, Nancy took a quick shower and dressed in straight-legged jeans and a purple and green flower-sprigged blouse. She was just applying some lip gloss when she heard a phone ringing, and she was startled when she realized it was the hotel room's phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss Drew?"

"Yes?"

"A delivery is waiting for you at the front desk. Would you like it sent up?"

"No, no. I'll be right down," she decided, finding her sandals.

She definitely wasn't expecting anything, but from past experience when an unexpected package arrived, it was generally a threat or warning. Such occurrences always upset Bess and made her much more cautious, and made George even more determined, but Nancy was encouraged by such attempts. They meant she was close to finding the culprit, and he or she was beginning to panic—and thus far more likely to make mistakes.

The clerk at the front desk smiled at her in recognition and nodded to the left, where Nancy saw a man in a security uniform, carrying a garment bag. "Miss Drew?"

Nancy nodded, and he presented a clipboard to her, asking for her signature to indicate her receipt of the bag. She handed it over, then accepted the bag, which seemed a bit heavier than she was expecting. A note was fastened to the outside.

Noticing that the staff was watching with some curiosity, Nancy decided to open the bag and read the contents of the envelope in relative privacy, and headed for the elevators. She called the next car, but her curiosity definitely had the better of her as she opened the envelope while waiting.

_I had to guess your size; if you need to take advantage of my tailor, his number is below and he would be delighted to assist you. Please call to let me know you received it, and I look forward to seeing you wearing it Saturday night._

_-N_

Nancy rushed back to her room as soon as the elevator reached her floor, then laid the bag on the bed and unzipped it.

Inside she found the most beautiful dress she had ever seen in person. It was floor-length, gold, with a strapless bodice and an embellished tulle skirt that flared out from the fitted waist into a perfect ballgown silhouette. She gasped when she hung it from the back of the bathroom door so she could see the full effect.

So he wanted her to wear this on Saturday? She couldn't imagine what event they could possibly be attending that would call for such a perfectly beautiful gown. Maybe the Oscars, she considered with a giggle.

And that was when Nancy realized that, of everything she had brought with her and bought, she had absolutely _nothing_ that would go with the dress, not even a pair of shoes.

Nancy took a photo of the dress with her phone's camera and sent it to Bess, along with a caption. _So what would I wear with this, best friend/personal stylist? ;)_

Bess called back within two minutes. "So that's what you're doing in New York, going to Neiman Marcus and taunting me with pictures of absolutely fantastic dresses?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing here," Nancy replied teasingly. "I think I'm getting close to the solution, though, so maybe I'll be back soon. In the meantime, what accessories would go with this dress?"

"Is it a clue?" Bess sounded both curious and delighted.

"No, I'm supposed to wear it, and I know I'll need some new shoes but I'm at a loss. What do you suggest?"

Nancy didn't hear anything for a moment, and pulled the phone away from her ear to make sure the call hadn't dropped. "Hello? Bess, are you still there?"

"Y—yes," Bess finally forced out. "Uh, Nancy, I misunderstood you. You'll be _wearing it? _Like, did you borrow it or something?"

"I don't understand why you're getting so freaked out," Nancy replied. "Why would I have to borrow it?"

Bess gulped. "Nancy Antoinette Drew—"

"That's not my name," Nancy corrected mildly.

"—that is _runway_ Oscar de la Renta. Not ready-to-wear, _runway._ I remember seeing it in the spring collection. The price tag on that dress has to be _five digits_. And I know for a fact that your clothes budget is nowhere _near_ enough to cover it. So again I ask you, what the hell are you doing with it?"

Nancy flushed hotly. Five digits. Five digits?

She was starting to wonder not what event they would be attending, but what Ned might be expecting in return for such a lavish gift.

"And don't even try to tell me it's a knockoff."

Just to check, Nancy gingerly felt for the label. Bess was right. And absolutely no price tag was attached. No wonder a security guard had basically delivered it to her. She wouldn't have wanted anything to happen to it, either.

"Nan?"

"I promise I'll explain later," Nancy said, running her fingers through her hair. "But I need to know what to wear with it. _If_ I wear it."

"Gold pumps and an updo," Bess answered. "And for God's sake take more than twelve seconds to do your makeup with it. In fact, I'd recommend that you go to a makeup counter and have them do it for you. Winged eyeliner would really make your eyes pop—oh hell, like you're going to remember what I'm saying. Take a picture of the dress with you and—go to this makeup counter." Bess ordered Nancy to make a note of the name.

"God, I wish I was there," Bess moaned. "Holy _shit_, that dress is beautiful. And you had _better_ explain soon, Drew, or I really will get on a plane and go out there."

"How did George's triathlon go?" Nancy asked.

Bess grudgingly allowed Nancy to change the subject, but by the time she had hung up the phone, Nancy wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't accept such a gift.

With one last glance at her research, and another blush rising in her cheeks, she picked up her phone and dialed again, this time calling Ned's cell number.

"So it arrived," Ned guessed in greeting.

Nancy chuckled. "I can't accept this," she told him, her voice low. "It's absolutely gorgeous and I sincerely appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept it."

"Of course you can," Ned said. "You need something stunning to wear on Saturday night, something almost as beautiful as you are."

"I never even said I was free Saturday night," Nancy pointed out, her voice still low.

"But I've kept up my end of our bargain," Ned said. "I think those were our terms. Would you care for dinner first? Louis is always eager to earn new devotees."

"You're being awfully presumptuous."

"Never," he replied, a smile in his voice. "So, seven-oh-five, then. And if you change your mind about dinner...?"

Nancy gave him a dramatic sigh. "Seven-oh-five," she agreed. "No dinner first. I doubt I'll be able to eat anyway."

"Oh? Well, I'll make sure Louis waits up and makes us some sundaes after."

Nancy laughed, thanking him again before she hung up, but when she looked back at the dress she was shaking. What would he expect of her, for accepting that dress?

Nancy looked back down at her research, but she was too keyed up to focus on it quite yet. She called George to congratulate her on her performance in the triathlon, then Hannah Gruen just to let her know how much she missed her, and slowly she was able to focus again. Interregnum. She opened her laptop after she hung up with Hannah, then glanced back at the dress. If she needed it to be taken in...

_I can't wear it,_ she reminded herself. _I can't accept this._

But she already had.

A basic search was too wide, and running a search with Kate Gordon's name plus Interregnum didn't return any hits. Nancy was still distracted by the problem as she pushed herself up off the bed, then crossed to the dress.

She handled it very delicately, but once she zipped herself into it and turned to look at her reflection, she almost shivered with happiness. The dress fit her like a glove. It showed the shadow of her cleavage, but wasn't too low cut. She smoothed her palms down the sides of the bodice. Her silhouette was so slender, and the fabric was warmed by her skin.

She wondered what she would do if she was alone with him again, if he did more than just tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, if he tried to kiss her...

Nancy lowered her gaze, then looked back up again. Her cheeks were flushed.

He was a _suspect_. She needed to put the gown back into the garment bag and send it back to him with an apologetic note.

She tried to put it out of her head, as she changed back into her regular clothes and went back to the search, but it was hard. Whatever memory the word "Interregnum" had triggered, it wasn't based on the word itself. She looked at the spreadsheet of figures Humphrey had made after his own research and his discussion with the CFO, comparing the partners' estimated net worth over each of the past five years. Ned's had only continued to rise...

Nancy swept her hair out of her face, shaking her head. She needed to put him out of her mind; she needed to decide to ignore all his flirtations and presents.

_I gave you that dress, Miss Drew. It's only fair that I get to take it back when I want..._

Nancy dropped her chin to her chest, closing her eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't put herself in this situation. When she was around him, it was too easy to follow his lead, to go along with whatever he was asking. Even over the phone... just speaking to him was enough.

And with other women, she was sure his wealth and incredible good looks were enough. She hated that he had this indescribable influence over her. She hated how much she was looking forward to their next meeting. What could be a more perfect plan for the murderer than to keep her close to him, gain her confidence, so he could keep tabs on her progress?

Nancy took a trembling breath, dry-washing her face with her palms, that same hot blush still warming her cheeks. She felt lost, and she didn't know who to talk to. George would advise caution, and remind her yet again that Ned was a suspect. Bess would probably say that any guy who would give her such an expensive dress _couldn't_ be a bad guy. Her father would be incredibly disappointed in her for falling for this guy's line when, for all they knew, Ned _was_ the one they were looking for.

Nancy let out a long sigh. Her best defense would be finding the evidence to prove Ned's guilt—or his innocence.

Before she did, though, Nancy finished checking the financials. Victoria Parker's net worth had been shrinking slowly over the past five years; if that had been a factor in her vote...

She noticed that Lionel Stallings's net worth had held steady, and Brian MacIntosh's had risen slightly. Given the market, fluctuations were to be expected, but flat or falling returns could make investors desperate.

She found another spreadsheet detailing the various investments made by the Bennett Group and rate of returns, and noticed that a few of them were listed as "other." She would have to check with Humphrey to see what the miscellaneous ones might be, and if the Bennett Group's investments under Carlton had grown more conservative, and if the other partners had possibly disagreed with that plan. Maybe that could have prompted an attempted takeover.

But, she thought, that still didn't explain Mark's involvement.

_Means and motive, but maybe no opportunity. _Maybe the inverse was true. Maybe Mark had just been the most convenient scapegoat.

_After the meeting. Her father's boat._

_Interregnum._

Nancy was still lost in thought as she gathered enough change for a diet soda and grabbed her room key, heading down the hall to the bank of vending machines near the elevators.

_Why the boat? Why _that night?

_I _have to_ find out what they were discussing. That has to be the key to all this. It has to be._

And Ned had given her the perfect opportunity to convince him to tell her. If she could find the nerve.

"Nan! Any new leads?"

Nancy looked up quickly, and found Humphrey just exiting the elevator, his hand raised in greeting. She bit back her irritation. "Maybe," she murmured. "Look, let me ask you about something."

"Your room?"

"Yours," Nancy said. She didn't like the idea of Humphrey in her room. She liked the idea of him being outside it, where she could lock him out.

She brought over the financials she had been studying. Humphrey had his shoes off and his shirt-sleeves rolled up. "How was your morning?" he asked.

Nancy glanced up, a little surprised he was asking. "Fine," she said. She didn't want to mention Ned's gift, especially since she still hadn't decided what to do about it. "Yours?"

"Great," Humphrey said warmly. "Fantastic. Vince has been giving me all these great tips, and I'm really thinking about investing..."

Nancy cast a sharp look at Humphrey. "You haven't told him about the investigation," she said, and when she saw him squirm a little her heart sank. "Humphrey, what the hell?"

"Look, I _know_ him," Humphrey protested.

"No you don't! You told me you knew his _brother_," Nancy pointed out, exasperated, her hands on her hips. "How much have you told him?"

"I _haven't_," he said. "Seriously. I mean, I have asked him if he suspects anyone of the partners of being involved with what happened to Kate, but the conversation just worked its way around to that. Seriously, Nan."

Nancy bit back her knee-jerk irritation when he addressed her by the nickname. "You can't _trust him_," she emphasized. "Not until we know who did this, we can't trust _any_ of them."

"Really?" Humphrey said, his expression darkening. "You really want to try that, after you basically spent the _night_ with one of them?"

Nancy couldn't stop herself from blushing. "It was an interview," she said, defensively. "Look, just be careful. Don't tell him anything more. Once the case is over you can network with him all you want, but let's just focus, okay?"

"Same to you," Humphrey said, as she reached for the sheet again.

Nancy took a few deep breaths before she was able to calm down. She didn't want to start a shouting match with him. "There is one thing," she said, her voice even. "While you two have been talking, has Vince mentioned to you what the meeting was about, that night on the yacht?"

Humphrey shook his head. "Just that it was confidential."

Nancy mouthed a curse. "I've noticed that several of the partners are seeing low or negative growth," she said. "Thanks to that spreadsheet you made."

She didn't mind flattering him, especially because it was true, and it might soothe his ruffled feathers. Humphrey smiled. "I noticed that too, of course."

Behind her back, Nancy dug her nails into the back of her leg for a few seconds to keep from snapping at him. "Could it be that Carlton Gordon's investments had become more conservative, and that prompted the frustration? What about these 'other' investments on this chart?"

They went over the spreadsheets and charts for a few hours, until Nancy's stomach began to growl, and when Humphrey said they could go downstairs and have lunch in the hotel's restaurant and continue their conversation, Nancy went along with it; she didn't want to lose track of the leads they were discussing and have to start over.

While Humphrey was good at explaining the Bennett Group's finances in terms Nancy could easily grasp, he also wasn't accustomed to thinking about cases the way Nancy was, and when he wasn't suggesting that money was the primary motivation, he was spinning complicated stories that seemed to be jumbled rehashes of old Lifetime moves. Either way, he was still firmly set in conventional thinking—and still entirely convinced that neither Vincent nor Victoria had anything to do with the murder. He did seem convinced that Nickerson was involved, though, but Nancy sensed that it was more his jealousy than any clue he had found in the course of their research.

After lunch, while they were waiting for the check, Nancy mentioned the Interregnum clue she had come across but couldn't place. "It's probably nothing," she said, shaking her head. "It's just bugging me, and in all honesty, I think the last piece of this puzzle is what they were discussing at that meeting on the yacht that night."

Humphrey frowned at the spreadsheet. "It would be easier if so many of the partners didn't invest in so many similar side projects," he said. "Especially ones with similar names. Nickerson's invested in a clean energy project; so has Stallings. MacIntosh was burned when he backed the wrong horse in the next-gen player race, so he's stayed out of tech whenever he could. I tried running a list of all the intersections between all the partners, but it was _pages_ long."

"So the Interregnum thing doesn't ring a bell for you either."

Humphrey rubbed his forehead. "It might. I'll run a check—"

"I already have. Whatever it is, that's not the name of it. Maybe I have it backwards, or it was just something that _reminded_ me of that word. But my memory is generally better than that."

"And a search didn't come up with anything."

Nancy shrugged. "I'm going to keep looking, but..."

Humphrey nodded. "Look, I'll check into it, and if I can maybe just... convince Vince to talk about the meeting...?"

Nancy frowned. "You have to be careful," she reminded him again. "And it might be easier for us to talk to the secretaries about it, anyway. I think that shy-ish one in Stallings's office had a thing for you."

Humphrey chuckled. "You think?"

"And if you hurry, I bet you could catch her before she leaves the office," Nancy said, watching Humphrey sign the check.

In the elevator, Nancy remembered something. "By the way, did you happen to mention that rumor about Kate to Cantoni, to see what was going on there? Because if Cantoni was trying to get Kate's ear in anticipation of her taking over..."

"That would make a lot more sense than their dating," Humphrey said, and his eyes widened in an exaggeratedly innocent expression when Nancy glared at him. "What? And you've asked Nickerson if _he_ dated her, right?"

"He said he didn't," Nancy said, forcing herself to stay calm. "Regardless of who shot Kate, though, he or she had to have a reason for doing it on the boat instead of in the city, where she could have just—vanished."

Humphrey offered to bring his laptop over to her room so they could keep brainstorming while they researched, but she didn't want him disturbing her system, and she needed to puzzle over everything they had discussed herself. She told him to go ahead back to his room and bought another diet soda, breathing a sigh of relief when Humphrey was out of sight.

Back in her room, before she did anything else, Nancy ran the one search she hadn't yet. The images that came up in the search showed a series of slender, ultra-beautiful women, each with her hand joined to Ned's, entering or exiting restaurants or nightclubs. When he was single, Ned was considered quite the eligible bachelor, and the gossip magazines often ran paparazzi photos of him with the women he was apparently dating.

She was afraid to find out whether he was currently dating someone else, but according to the most recent information she could find, he and his most recent girlfriend had broken up three months earlier. He'd had a six-month relationship with a prima ballerina named Belinda Morrison, and in the pictures she looked like a total bitch. The other girls looked almost blandly, conventionally beautiful, with generic titles like _talent representative_ and _marketing manager_. They looked sophisticated and mature.

Nancy looked down at her clothes, then at the dress, her stomach sinking. She didn't want to think about it, so she closed her web search, then uncapped her soda. Before she went back to her research, she took the dress and put it in the closet, where it wouldn't be lingering in the corner of her eye.

_What does it matter if he's seeing anyone else? _she asked herself as she closed the closet door. _It's not like this is going anywhere._

Focusing on the case again was a relief, but Nancy was still feeling discouraged when the sky began to darken as the sun set. Nancy stretched and called her father, giving him an update on the case and asking whether he could see any angles they hadn't yet considered. He agreed with her that finding out the topic of the meeting might be the best clue, but he also cautioned her that, depending on the law, it might be inadmissible, or it might even be illegal for any of the partners to tell either of them about it.

Nancy was just considering going to the vending machine down the hall for a bag of chips to stave off her hunger pangs, but decided to go ahead and order a salad from room service for dinner. She had just touched the receiver when her cell phone chirped.

_Going 2 grab a drink w/Stallings' secretary. Wish me luck!_

_Good luck,_ Nancy texted Humphrey back, and heard his door slam across the hall as he left. She ordered her salad, then flipped through the channels, looking for something mindless she could turn on while her subconscious churned through everything again.

She had her research sorted into even piles on the desk before the runner knocked on her door. "Room service."

"Coming," Nancy called, glancing around to make sure everything was put away. Then she opened the door with a smile, allowing the uniformed woman to bring in the tray.

"Miss Drew? I was also asked to give you this."

Nancy waited until the runner had left to open the plain white envelope, addressed to her in block print.

_Drop this investigation, or you're next._


	6. Chapter 6

Nancy glanced at her watch one more time. Six-fifty.

She didn't have to do this. She could call Ned and tell him she wasn't feeling well, that she had changed her mind, or that the dress didn't fit, something, _anything_...

But she could feel it. She could feel the connection between them, and her curiosity was undeniable. She knew that she could make any decision she wanted, and it wouldn't matter.

She knew with total certainty that, no matter what, at seven-oh-five she would be in the hotel's lobby waiting.

Humphrey had come back to the hotel the night before with a few tidbits gleaned from his date with Stallings's assistant, but he and Nancy had waited until breakfast to discuss their findings. Nancy had lain awake for quite some time Friday night, feeling anxious, deciding that she absolutely would not keep the date Ned had practically demanded she attend Saturday night, then ten minutes later deciding that she might never have a better opportunity to truly question him about what he had done that night, especially in light of the research she and Humphrey had done.

_If he sent me the note, he'll try to encourage me to drop the investigation._

_But maybe he sent it to see if I would tell him about it, and he's trying to scare me so I'll confide in him about the case..._

_He's not involved. He can't have been involved. He wouldn't have done this._

_You don't know!_

Nancy still hadn't made up her mind about him. She hadn't yet found anything that made her think he had been involved, but, worse, she hadn't found any conclusive evidence that anyone _else_ had been involved—and so the partners were all still equally suspect.

Humphrey had brought up Interregnum in conversation with the assistant to see if it meant anything to her, but it hadn't. He had decided to track down the reference, given that he had nothing better to do. While he had been casting his net the afternoon before, though, he had called Carlton Gordon's assistant, and when he was told that Gordon wasn't taking appointments, Humphrey had somehow sweet-talked the woman into seeing him briefly Saturday afternoon.

Nancy, after her breakfast meeting with Humphrey, had taken a quick trip to a department store. She had bought a new pair of gold peep-toe pumps and a light wrap, along with the undergarments that the dress required. Then she made an appointment at the makeup counter and another in the salon for late that afternoon, telling herself she could always cancel them if she changed her mind about going on the date. She had remembered an out of the way store her Aunt Eloise had taken her to a few times, one that specialized in quirky vintage clothes and accessories, and when she visited she found a black velvet and sequin clutch along with a black cuff bracelet. She took photos and sent them to Bess for approval, and Bess said they should work—and reminded Nancy that she _still_ hadn't explained about the dress.

All day Nancy fought with herself, her attention split between the case and her internal debate. When she exhausted her options with one, she focused on the other. She told herself that Ned was complicit and that was the only reason he was lavishing so much attention on her. He was doing his best to seduce her so that when she finally found the evidence against him, he could convince her there were extenuating circumstances, that he hadn't meant it at all.

She told herself that Victoria Parker was the guilty one. Parker had been desperate for better returns, and when she found that Mark was opposing some scheme that could earn her back everything she had lost and more, and convincing Kate to go along with it, she had killed the larger threat and convinced Mark to keep quiet about what she had done.

Ned would never have killed anyone.

Ned could be waiting for a moment of vulnerability to kill _her_.

Nancy checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. Six fifty-eight. She needed to head downstairs soon.

She couldn't. She _couldn't_.

The prospect that he was a sociopathic murderer was somehow easier for her to deal with than the thought that Ned had absolutely nothing to do with it, that he was genuinely interested in her.

Nancy's heart was beating so hard in her chest as she checked her purse, then glanced back at the mirror. The makeup artist had been thorough and very good. Nancy's face was an even, golden tan without being orange, her cheekbones expertly contoured, her eye makeup dramatic without being too far over the top. Her hair was in a polished, sophisticated updo that looked a million times better than anything she could have done herself. Before she set out, Nancy took a deep breath, smiled, and took a photo of herself, then sent it to Bess.

_Wish me luck!_

Bess's response came thirty seconds later. _Girl, u r a knockout. U don't need luck cause ur totally gonna get lucky! ;)_

Nancy found herself blushing as she made sure her room key was in her purse.

Just then she heard a knock at her hotel room's door, and when she opened it, she was surprised to see Humphrey standing there. He swept his gaze over her, and opened and closed his mouth a few times without saying anything. "Uh," he finally forced out. "Holy _shit_, Nan, you look gorgeous."

She gave him a small, genuine smile. "Thanks."

Then his expression darkened. "Where are you going?"

"To interview a suspect," she told him, glancing down for a second.

"Not _Nickerson_."

Nancy raised her chin again. "Look, I need to see if he'll tell me what that meeting was about. Did Gordon's assistant give you anything?"

She flipped off the overhead lights, and Humphrey followed her down the hall as she went to the elevators and called the next car. "I'm not sure yet. I think you're right, though. He didn't have anything to do with his daughter's death, from what I can tell. No disagreements, no problems between them that I could see. Nan, listen to me. I don't have a good feeling about this."

Nancy adjusted her wrap as she turned back to face him. "I'll be fine," she told him.

"Look, if you want to go out, we can go get a nice dinner, talk about the case... I just don't like how this guy is with you, from everything you've told me, everything I've seen about him." When the car arrived, Nancy was ready to bid Humphrey goodbye, but he followed her onto the elevator and continued. "He's just met you. Tell me you aren't actually falling for this asshole."

"I'm not," she told Humphrey firmly. "I'll be back tonight and we can talk about the case—maybe in the morning, if I get back too late. On Monday, if we haven't found that Interregnum connection, I say we do another round of interviews, and ask each of the partners about it. See who acts guilty or nervous. I really think it could help us find who did this."

Humphrey was frowning as the car slowed and came to a stop, the doors whooshing apart to reveal the gleaming marble floor of the lobby. "How are we going to cover for that?"

"We'll say it's a project you're interested in putting some money into. Look, Humphrey, if anything happens I'll call you. Okay?"

He crossed his arms. "Please don't go," he said, stepping out into the lobby.

Nancy glanced down at her watch. Seven-oh-seven. "I have to," she told him, feeling both desperate and a little panicked. "I'll be fine."

She had to psych herself up a little to do it, but she walked through the lobby aware that she was surrounded by staring onlookers. The wrap did nothing to disguise the dramatic silhouette of the gown, or the decisive click of her heels against the floor. She kept her chin up and didn't lose her composure.

"Miss Drew?" The driver was already waiting at the back door of the car.

Several times during the ride, Nancy felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. The first time she had seen him alone, she had only contacted him to ask a few questions. She hadn't known about the helicopter trip, or the yacht expedition. He had surprised her, and swept her off her feet. She remembered with a blush now how much of the case she had discussed with him. He had been so easy to talk to, and while she had mostly ignored the majority of his flirtatious comments and the brush of his fingers against her skin, it had been difficult.

Now, though, she had a few questions for him—and that was all. But he had given her the dress she wore, and if he had paid for it, he had put a significant investment into it—and might very well expect their night to end with more than the brush of his lips against her knuckles. He was escorting her somewhere. She would be on his arm.

Then she realized that, if they were going to be in public, she would likely be photographed with him. Just by virtue of her elaborate dress alone, she would probably garner at least some attention.

Nancy pulled out her cell phone and hurriedly dialed Ned's number. When he answered, she could hear the loud murmur of conversation behind him.

"Hello?"

"Ned?"

"Yes," he replied, sounding amused. "Nancy."

Nancy took a deep breath. "We're not... going to be making an entrance or anything, are we? It's just..."

"You want to keep a low profile," he said, and his voice was more serious. "I understand. I'll figure it out. But, beautiful, if you're wearing that dress..."

Nancy flushed a little. "I am," she said.

"Then your profile won't be _that_ low."

After she told Ned she would see him in a few minutes, she heard the driver carry on a quiet conversation. They passed a red-carpeted staircase strobed by camera flashes, and then the driver pulled around to another entrance.

The side door opened, the light perched high above it casting the rest of the alley into deep darkness, the halo of blue-white brilliance falling directly on Ned and the security staffer holding the door open. Ned raised his head just as the driver came around to open Nancy's door, and she placed one foot outside the car, angling her body toward his.

At the sight of him, Nancy actually felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest, and all her anxiety felt like it was growing quieter even as it swallowed her whole.

He looked so incredibly fucking handsome that the sight of him was almost surreal, like she was seeing a scene from a movie, not the man actually waiting for her. He wore a classic tux, his tails and trousers pure black, his shirt white. A silver watch gleamed at his wrist, and she saw silver cufflinks as well. His dark hair had been styled, but one rebellious lock fell invitingly over his forehead, and he reached up absently to push it back into place as he gazed at her.

His eyes met hers, and it was like the rest of the world fell away, like her stomach would never stop fluttering. She had been so nervous and conflicted that her lunch had been small, her dinner nonexistent.

"Nancy," he whispered, rushing forward and offering her his hand to assist her as she slid out of the towncar. "Oh my God. You look..." He shook his head, speechless for a moment. "You look incredible."

She gave him a genuine smile. "You look very handsome," she told him, holding her wrap closed around her, and his hand still lingered in hers. The small voice that had been urging her all day long to treat him entirely professionally, to stop feeding the apparent crush he had on her, just faded into nothing.

Ned shook his head again. "I don't even want us to go inside," he told her. "Everyone in there is going to see you and fall in love with you, and I want you all to myself."

When Nancy let the wrap slip from her shoulders, revealing smooth creamy skin and the subtle shimmer of her body lotion, she could swear that she felt Ned's gaze on the newly exposed flesh—and that it was intense enough to burn her alive. "But then you wouldn't get your money's worth," she found herself saying. "We should at least put in an appearance."

Ned reached for her wrap and draped it over his other arm, then offered her his. "Briefly," he told her, his voice low, meant only for her. "After all, for the next little while I suppose you'll be the shy, retiring Ann Mallory, condescending to do me a favor by keeping me from being a wallflower tonight. While all I _really_ want," he leaned even closer, and she could feel his warm breath against her temple, making her shiver, "is Nancy Drew, the gorgeous, utterly captivating detective who is on the hunt for a murderer."

That reminder of the case just made her stomach flip unpleasantly again, and the conflict she felt was like an actual visceral pain. She had to be on her guard. She _had_ to be.

She didn't know what she would do if she found evidence that he had been involved in Kate's death.

Ned piloted her through a few short back hallways, the murmur of conversation and the clink of glassware growing louder, and then he opened a side door and Nancy blinked at the sudden wash of golden light. That was her first impression: gold, so much gold, cream marble shot through with it, soft lighting and the sparkling of champagne. Long tables were set up with a variety of luscious, vibrantly colored displays of fruits and petit fours, all flanking towers of champagne flutes. The ceiling was breathtakingly high overhead, and the tables were set between pieces of priceless artwork, some under glass, some freestanding. The white-gloved hands of the pianist stroked the keys of a large, glossy grand piano with confidence, and Nancy and Ned were surrounded by a laughing, murmuring crowd.

Nancy couldn't count the number of benefits she had attended, and the sight was familiar. A small podium complete with a placard and small microphone was already set up, waiting for the keynote plea for donations. While the surroundings and the outfits worn by the attendees were just a little more expensive than the ones Nancy generally saw while accompanying her father to such events in Chicago, she was in no way outside her element.

But, she reminded herself, she wasn't Nancy Drew here. She was Ann Mallory, who would be at least a little awed by her surroundings.

When the first tall, distinguished-looking man and his date came over, Nancy waited with a little curiosity to see how Ned would introduce her, or if he even would. He said that she was his friend, but Ned kept her arm tucked through his, and the way the date's eyebrow flicked up a quarter of an inch as she swept her gaze down Nancy's outfit told her that his story wasn't entirely accepted. Nancy knew that her dress would make her stand out, but it would also make many of them wonder who she was, and whether she was a person of note or influence whose acquaintance should be cultivated. Attending as Ned Nickerson's date, letting him show her off, almost demanded that interpretation.

After a few more of those brief conversations, Nancy was somehow becoming accustomed to the contact of his skin against hers, but her heart still beat almost painfully hard every time her gaze met Ned's. He checked her wrap and clutch so she wouldn't be burdened with them, and when he asked if she wanted a glass of champagne, she paused. Ann Mallory was of legal age, and Nancy had the ID to prove it. Given how empty her stomach was, though, she didn't think champagne was a great idea, at least not yet. And definitely not if she was trying to maintain impartiality and professionalism around him.

"Maybe with some strawberries," Nancy hedged, glancing over at the banquet table closest to them.

Ned raised an eyebrow at her. "If you're hungry, tell me right now and I'll whisk you away. Louis will whip up something that will make you think you've died and gone to gustatory heaven."

Nancy couldn't help chuckling at the almost earnest expression in his dark eyes. "I just didn't have much to eat today," she told him, "and I'd hate for the champagne to go to my head."

A small smile touched his lips. "Strawberries and champagne for my beautiful date, it is," he said. "And an assurance that I'll be a gentleman even if the circumstances try me."

"Is that a promise?"

His smile grew wider. "Depends on how sorely I'm tested, Miss—Mallory."

Nancy watched, bemused, as Ned prepared a plate for her. As she waited, three other musicians joined the pianist, and with some encouragement, some of the more adventurous couples began to dance. Nancy's gaze was still locked to Ned when she felt the warm brush of fingertips against her elbow, and she turned—but the owner of the hand was at her other side, a small smirk on his face. He had wavy blond hair and chiseled features, pale eyes and a very interested gaze which was directed mostly at her cleavage.

"Care to dance, Cinderella?"

Nancy smiled at him. "I'd love to, but my coach is going to turn into a pumpkin soon, so I'm afraid I really can't."

He cupped her elbow a little more firmly, his fingers warm and caressing. "Come on, beautiful, it would be a shame for the most gorgeous woman here to go all night without dancing."

"You're right." The blond man turned his head almost fractionally, to direct his narrowed gaze in Ned's direction as he approached. "It would be a shame, but her dance card is full. I'm sure the second most gorgeous woman here is just dying to meet you, though," Ned said, and nodded in the direction of a dramatically thin, disdainful-looking brunette with long-lashed amber eyes. Her cowl-necked gown was cut to reveal almost the full column of her spine, and the graphite fabric of her dress shimmered wherever it caught the light. She looked very much like the kind of girl Nancy had seen in the paparazzi photos of Ned.

Once the blond man had yielded with poor grace, Ned handed Nancy a plate of sliced strawberries, a dollop of whipped cream and a pair of petit fours on the side, and a flute of champagne. She looked between the two, then raised her head, her lips curved up slightly.

"I seem to require a butler, sir," she told him, and dipped her head in thanks as he took the champagne back, holding it in his left hand as he sipped from the glass in his right. "And I don't recall seeing any dance cards..."

She made her voice lightly teasing, and he answered in kind. "I have no intention of letting him or any other jerk here get his arms around you," he told her.

"I wasn't aware you had any prior claim on me." She picked up one of the petit fours and took a bite.

"I suppose I don't," he said with a sigh. "I can only tell you that seeing you dance with someone else would shatter my heart, gorgeous."

"I think you're made of sterner stuff than that."

"I might be," he conceded. "But Louis has such delicate sensibilities that he would definitely deprive you of dessert."

Nancy gasped, her eyes sparkling. "You wouldn't. You wouldn't promise me what is sure to be the most tantalizingly delicious sundae I'll ever taste and then snatch it away from me just like that. I thought you said you were a gentleman."

"All's fair in love and war, Miss Mallory," he told her with a wink. "Or when it comes to Louis."

Nancy finished the entire plate of food before she took even her first sip of champagne, and despite her cautiousness, she still felt the warmth of the alcohol sweep over her too quickly. She finished her flute when Ned finished his, and as soon as he put their glasses on a tray, he reached for her hand.

"May I have this dance?" he murmured, his dark eyes staring directly into hers.

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes," she told him, and let him guide her to the designated area.

Anticipation made her nervous again, and when he cupped one hand at her slender waist, the other joined to hers, she rested her palm against his shoulder and gazed up into his eyes, and that was when she knew for sure.

There was no turning back. There would be no turning back from this, if she let herself fall.

Nancy swallowed hard, and as they began to move together, in time with the beat, that tunnel vision came back to her. The sounds of the conversation around them, the other couples, all of it, just faded away, and every bit of her tingled with awareness as the warmth of his palm came through the thin fabric of her dress. He moved with perfect ease and effortless grace, and she knew it took skill for him to avoid accidentally stepping on her hem, to lead her so subtly. It took her a few steps to learn him, but once she did, when they were in perfect tandem, their gazes locked, and she felt like all of her was lain bare beneath that smoldering gaze. Unbidden, definitely against her will, she flushed as she imagined those large, firm hands unzipping her dress, touching the bare skin beneath, that muscular, powerfully built body moving against hers as easily as they were dancing now...

She shivered and her body moved with his, just a little closer, and she didn't have to concentrate. It was as though she knew how he would move before he actually did. Her fingers crept higher on his shoulder, until her fingertips were barely brushing the nape of his neck.

Ned let out his breath in a long sigh, his gaze darkening a little, and Nancy could feel every individual beat of her heart. It felt like something trapped inside her. When he took a step closer to her, she squeezed his hand a little tighter, willing her knees to stay strong.

_Please don't go._

She could never tell Humphrey, never explain this to anyone, but she knew that if she wasn't careful, she would never be able to turn Ned down. He could ask her to do anything, and she would follow him like someone lost in a dream.

How could she have ever looked into those eyes and thought he was involved in Kate's death? His dark eyes were so intense and sincere. She could see an emotion there she didn't trust herself to name, and when she lightly brushed the nape of his neck again, his lips parted, and a terrible thrill went down her spine.

She wanted to know how it would feel, to have those lips pressed to hers.

When the dance ended, she felt like something had passed between them, something wordless and intangible, and she was both worn out and exhilarated. Ned asked if she wanted another flute of champagne, his voice pitched low and intense, and after a beat she nodded, hoping it would help ease the incredible, almost painful awareness that had filled her stomach with butterflies.

For the rest of their evening, when they weren't dancing, they were moving easily in the crowd. She was able to witness his public persona firsthand, more than she had when she was in his office, and she was a little bemused to see that he wasn't terribly different. He had an excellent memory for names and faces, and the well-dressed couples and professionals who approached him were nearly all complimentary, their faces alight with genuine admiration. He inspired that in people. He was a natural leader, and people wanted to follow him. He knew what he was doing, and that confidence, the charisma and charm he radiated were irresistible.

And she was the woman on his arm.

The more dances they shared, the more sure she was that he would bow out when someone tried to cut in, but he never did. People commented that he had monopolized the mysterious ingenue he had brought as his date, and he just shrugged and smiled, repeating that he had no intention of letting her go.

She had cut herself off after her third flute of champagne, and the additional halved strawberries had helped, but she was feeling a little lightheaded as Ned escorted her to the coat check so they could claim her wrap and clutch. "Louis promised to wait up for us," he told her with a smile. His eyebrow went up in the slightest question.

She pulled her wrap over her shoulders, tilting her head as she looked up at him. Just as she had felt all afternoon, she knew what the right choice was—and she was equally sure she couldn't make it. "I don't know," she bluffed. "I believe the terms of our arrangement have been fulfilled." _But_, she added silently, _I still haven't asked you about Interregnum—and that could very well ruin tonight for me._

"They have," Ned allowed with a faint smile. "But I can't lie to you. I don't want the night to be over just yet. And it's only a sundae."

"If it's on your _yacht_..." She trailed off without completing the statement.

"Nah. I thought I'd change it up a bit."

The entire trip after they left the benefit, Nancy kept trying to will herself to calm down, but it was almost impossible, especially thanks to the champagne. She would try the sundae and ask him the questions she needed to ask, and that would be it. She thought guiltily of Humphrey's accusation that she wasn't really treating Ned like a suspect, and she knew that if he had witnessed the way they had been behaving so far tonight, he definitely would have called her a hypocrite.

Then Ned glanced over at her, smiling, and she didn't care.

The car pulled to a stop outside an apartment building, and she knew he was taking her to his home, that she should say no, but she couldn't. He hadn't tried to hurt her on his yacht, and at least they were still in the city.

In the elevator, Ned slid a key into a lock and pressed the button for the penthouse. Then he turned to her. Nancy had her arms folded and her wrap pulled tight over her shoulders, almost defensively, but she felt almost unbearably warm when Ned's gaze lingered on her. "I never said thank you, did I," he said, and shook his head. "Excuse my terrible manners. Events like the one tonight are completely unbearable without the right company."

"I didn't think it was so bad," she told him with a smile.

"Nor did I," he said. "I'd attend one every night, if it meant I could be dancing with you, beautiful."

He reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth again, and just as he brushed his lips over her knuckles, the elevator reached the penthouse floor and the door slid open. Nancy was able to cover her shiver as they walked into his home.

Almost immediately Ned toed out of his polished dress shoes, and Nancy giggled at the expression of exaggerated relief on his face. "Sorry. Take your shoes off too, if you'd like. Would you care for a tour?"

Nancy had just begun to consider it, telling herself that she needed to ask her questions and say her goodbyes, when Louis entered from the kitchen. She had heard Ned calling him as they had waited for the car to come around and pick them up. "Everything's prepared," he said with a smile.

Nancy smiled back at him. "Please tell me that Mr. Nickerson passed along my compliments after that utterly spectacular meal on the yacht."

Louis gave her an almost bashful grin. "I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed it."

"It was... there are no words for how amazing it was," she told him. "I enjoyed every bite. Honestly."

Ned glanced at Nancy, reaching down to clasp her hand. "That's quite enough," he told her, mock sternly. "I think half the men I spoke to tonight were only talking to me to get a better look at you, and if I'm not careful you'll inspire total devotion in my chef as well. If you rhapsodize over the sundae, in that dress that makes you look like perfect royalty, God only knows what will happen."

Louis had taken advantage of Ned's teasing to return to the kitchen, and he appeared again in a moment with two sundaes, long-handled spoons in each. "Warm cinnamon and butter pecan cake topped in a cream cheese glaze, chocolate-dusted vanilla-bean gelato with a boiled caramel sauce."

Nancy's eyes widened, and she glanced over at Ned in dismay as Louis placed the sundaes at a pub table overlooking the impressive view of the city afforded by Ned's large picture windows. "Oh, I couldn't possibly eat that in this dress," she said. "If I spilled anything on it..."

Louis had vanished to the kitchen again. "Then I guess you will just have to take it off," Ned murmured, his voice low, his dark-eyed gaze locked to hers, and Nancy shivered a little. "If you'd like to borrow some clothes, my bedroom is right there."

Nancy smiled at him in thanks, then closed herself into his room—and couldn't stop herself from wondering if he was going to follow her inside. She saw a lock on the doorknob and turned it, her stomach jumping a little, then opened his dresser drawers. In a lower drawer she found, folded neatly, a few Harvard t-shirts, and she pulled one out, along with some black designer drawstring shorts that she could tie tightly enough not to fall off. Quickly she unzipped her dress and left it on the bed, then yanked the shirt over her head and stepped into the shorts, leaving herself exposed as briefly as possible.

Once she was dressed in his clothes, she felt her natural curiosity come back. While she was in his bedroom and she doubted that he kept many private papers there, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to do a quick search. The small table on the side of the bed closest her was empty; she crossed to the other table and pulled out the lowest drawer.

There she found condoms, a bottle of personal lubricant, handcuffs, a blindfold, a box—

Nancy flushed and quickly, silently pushed the drawer back in. When she, Bess and George had turned eighteen, Bess had demanded that they go to an adult store for the novelty of it, and Nancy had seen any number of mortifying products like the one in the box. Bess, who had been boy-crazy since the onset of puberty and a faithful reader of _Cosmo_ for practically as long, was very lofty and sophisticated about such things, while Nancy just felt both embarrassed by and curious about all she had seen there.

"Nancy, did you find some clothes?"

"Yes! Coming!" Nancy called back, then flushed even more deeply. She fanned herself for a few seconds, then unlocked the door and walked out again. When she set eyes on him, she didn't feel disgusted, just a little in awe. She had been sure that he was much more sexually experienced than she—she would have been _shocked_ if he hadn't been—and that just made her idle fantasies during their dance all the more poignant.

"Mmm. Looks good on you," Ned commented with a smile. He was already seated at the pub table, the spoon in his hand, his jacket off and tie loose. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone.

Nancy scrunched her nose at him, taking the seat opposite, still shaking a little from what she had seen in his room. "Thanks for letting me borrow it for a little while," she told him, and then she took the first bite of her dessert.

"Oh, holy shit."

Ned smiled. "Aren't you glad you didn't pass this up?" he teased her.

Their desserts were amazing, and Nancy was glad that the cake and ice cream served to help sober her up a little. Her stomach had been churning a little from the nearly untempered champagne. Once she pushed her dessert glass away, Ned took one last bite of his dessert, then sighed.

"Mmm. Couch?"

Nancy nodded lazily, padding in bare feet over to his couch. The apartment was spotless, uncluttered, and tastefully decorated in what looked like reclaimed wood and beautifully plush fabrics, no doubt by an expert in interior design. The couch was so comfortable that Nancy sank down into the cushions with a little moan, tipping her head back. She was full, happy and satisfied, and those questions that had seemed so urgent earlier didn't seem terribly important yet.

"You should hire that man out as a spy," she told Ned, turning her head so she could look at him, still tilted back against the top of the couch cushion. "People would tell him _anything_ he asked just to have another bite of that dessert."

Ned smiled. "So what would you promise me, if I promise you another one?"

Nancy chuckled, avoiding the question. "Would you mind answering a few more questions?"

Ned sighed, but then his expression brightened. "As long as you promise to keep me on the suspect list," he told her. "Are you willing to do that?"

Nancy nodded, then sat up straighter, angling her body toward his. She pulled her legs up and crossed them in front of her. "I've heard that Kate and Vincent Cantoni were kind of close. Did you see anything like that?"

Ned shrugged, an apologetic look on his face. "I can't say that I really did, but I don't doubt it. Many of the partners have their own side projects going on, and sometimes their interests overlap."

Nancy nodded. "So Kate might have been involved on projects with any of the other partners. Did that happen with you as well?"

Ned shook his head. "It hadn't. Not because I wouldn't have considered it, just because no opportunity came up."

"And do you feel that way about the other partners?"

Ned shrugged and laced his fingers together. "This stays between us, okay?" he said, and glanced over at her.

Nancy nodded. "Okay," she agreed, her heart beating a little faster.

"Other than Carlton, I'm not all that impressed by them, honestly. Not by their expertise or their instincts. So I can't say that I would necessarily invest with any of them, outside the group."

Nancy tilted her head. "So why are you a partner?"

Ned gave her a small humorless smile. "It's a good question. Mostly because Carlton Gordon has an excellent reputation and he's worked hard. He's really made a name for himself, and with the right planning..."

Ned trailed off, glancing down at his hands before he looked back at Nancy. "The future is bright for the company, if he plays his cards right."

"How so?" Nancy asked quickly.

Ned shrugged. "It just is," he said, and glanced back down again.

A suspicion was brewing in Nancy's mind, but she would have to speak to Carlton Gordon again to confirm or deny it. She made a mental note to do that. "Ned?"

"Hmm?" he said, and when their gazes locked, she held his.

"Does the word 'Interregnum' ring any bells?"

"In what context?" Ned asked. "In Latin, or...?"

Nancy couldn't help chuckling. "In the context of the Bennett Group."

Ned's brow furrowed. "I... kind of?" he said slowly. "It's nothing... nothing major, but it does sound kind of familiar. I can't place it, though." He shook his head. "That's frustrating."

She nodded. "At least I'm not going crazy," she muttered.

"Going crazy?"

Nancy sighed. She hadn't seen any sign that Ned was lying to her, and she could already feel that she was letting her guard down again. He was just so damn easy to talk to. "I ran across a reference to it that I can't place, and I keep thinking it's probably a good clue."

"Well, if I remember where I remember it from, I'll be sure to let you know."

Nancy smiled at him in thanks, then unfolded her legs. "Well, thank you so much for letting me wear the dress, and the sundae."

Ned stood up when she did. "The dress is yours," he said, and then flashed her a grin. "It doesn't work with my complexion."

Nancy smirked to keep herself from chuckling. "I can't accept it," she insisted again. "I wore it tonight because... well, honestly, I would have had nothing else to wear, and it was absolutely gorgeous, but it's too much, Ned."

"I bought it for you," he said, taking a step toward her. "It's yours. Take it with you and I promise I'll give you other occasions to wear it."

Nancy ducked her head, glancing down. "Fine," she sighed. "And I'll have these cleaned and sent back to you."

"Or not," he said, taking another step toward her. "I like seeing you in my clothes."

Nancy glanced up at him again, into his eyes. The intense expression she saw there and remembering what she had seen in his room made her flush a little. "Thank you," she murmured again, and she had to force herself to walk toward his door.

He followed her, and she had her hand on the knob when he linked his forefinger and thumb around her wrist. She turned back toward him, lifting her chin, and when he took another step toward her, Nancy pulled in a long shivering breath, searching his eyes.

She needed to leave. She had already stayed far too long, and being alone with him was a mistake, and this was dangerous, and—

He released her wrist, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, the ball of his thumb gently brushing her skin. His dark eyes were still gazing directly into hers, and when he tilted his head, Nancy parted her lips with a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as he kissed her.

And she was glad the support of the door was at her back as he kissed her again and again, his tongue slipping into her mouth, and she shuddered as she obeyed the irresistible impulse to wrap her arms around him, to run her fingers through his hair. He pinned her against his front door and kissed her again.

She couldn't count the number of first kisses she'd had, and she had kissed many guys. Sometimes it had sent a tingle down her spine; sometimes it had left her cold. Sometimes she had been so disappointed when an otherwise handsome man wasn't good at kissing, and sometimes there was absolutely no spark, no matter how much she had wanted to feel one.

Kissing Ned—there was no comparison. It was as though she had never been kissed before. Every stroke of his tongue against hers made her shudder with delight, and when he cupped her hips, boosting her so their faces were level as he held her against the door and kissed her again, she returned it desperately.

That shudder down her spine set up a throbbing awareness between her thighs, an ache, a desire for some satisfaction like none she had experienced before. She couldn't pull away even if she wanted to, and they were both panting when he finally broke the kiss. His lips brushed the soft skin behind her earlobe and Nancy shuddered again. She heard a low pleading sound and realized it was coming from her.

"Stay with me," Ned murmured, and his lips grazed her neck as he planted the softest kiss against it, his large warm palms still cupping her hips, and Nancy's eyelashes fluttered down again. "Stay with me, beautiful. Please don't go yet."

_Please don't go._

Nancy forced herself to open her eyes, and when she squirmed a little Ned released her. He pulled back to look into her face, and his gaze was dark and totally serious.

He wasn't asking her to stay. He was asking her for something else.

And she was having a really fucking hard time remembering why she shouldn't tell him _yes_.

Nancy took a deep breath and shook her head, her eyes wide. "I can't," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Ned frowned, but moved back a little, and she relaxed marginally. "I have a meeting Monday and I'll be out of town, but I'll be back Tuesday. Tell me I can at least see you then."

Nancy studied his eyes for a moment. "Okay," she murmured. "If I'm still here."

The stricken look that crossed his face when she said that was so sincerely sad that it almost broke Nancy's heart, and when he ducked in again and kissed her hard, she felt that quivering awareness intensify until she thought it might tear her apart. He squeezed her side and she let out a quiet moan when they parted, blinking slowly up at him, and he couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've never met anyone else like you," he whispered. "I don't think I ever will."

She gave him a small smile. "You're pretty special too," she murmured. "And soon I'll have the case finished..."

"Are you getting close?" he said, his eyes brightening even though he sounded a little reserved.

Nancy nodded. "Yeah. The culprit sent me a note threatening me if I didn't drop my investigation, so I must be getting close."

Ned frowned. "Threatened you? How?"

Nancy shrugged. "That I'd be next," she said lightly.

Ned grasped her hand and squeezed it, his brow furrowed. "Nancy, promise me you'll be careful," he said, his voice low and intense. "Especially on Monday when I'm not here."

She tilted her head. "You don't want me to just take a break when you're out of town?" she asked, keeping her voice even.

"Why would I?" he asked, a puzzled expression on his face. "I told you, Nancy, I've read about you—and when I say that you're not like anyone else I've ever met, I mean it. You're amazing, and you can handle yourself. You seem to have done perfectly well without me so far. I just..." He ducked his head.

"What?" she murmured, touching his chin, craning her neck to catch his gaze again.

"I guess I just... I wish I could help you. But the sooner you solve the case, the sooner you'll be leaving..." He reached up and stroked her cheek again.

Nancy swallowed. "If you want to help me," she said, searching his eyes, "can you tell me what you were discussing at the meeting, that night?"

He shook his head. "I can't," he said firmly. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Confidentiality."

Nancy pressed her lips together and nodded, looking down.

"Please, I'm not trying to hide anything, I swear—"

"I understand," she said softly. "I do."

He gently brushed his lips against hers one last time. "Do you really have to go?" he whispered.

Nancy shuddered again, at the feel of him so close to her. "I do," she said reluctantly. "Please."

With one last sigh, Ned stepped back and let his hands drop. "Okay," he said quietly. "But if you change your mind, or if you need to call me about anything, day or night, don't hesitate."

She nodded. "I'll keep that in mind," she murmured.

Once she was in the towncar, alone, on the way back to her hotel, Nancy closed her eyes and slumped against the seat, willing herself to stop shaking. It had taken every ounce of her strength to say no, and now she was practically thrumming with pent-up tension.

Most of her worried about what would happen the next time she saw him. He seemed to be able to cut through her defenses more quickly each time, and if she wasn't careful, the next time she saw him, she wouldn't be able to say no again. She wouldn't want to.

And part of her couldn't wait.


	7. Chapter 7

Walking through the hotel lobby wearing a Harvard t-shirt much too large for her, Ned's drawstring shorts, glittering peep-toe pumps and elaborate makeup, her hair piled up on her head, and a grin she couldn't seem to repress, Nancy knew she was drawing stares again. She was carrying her gown very carefully, along with her clutch, and she doubtless looked like she was doing the walk of shame.

She didn't care. The euphoria of being around Ned hadn't worn off.

He wanted her. He had _wanted_ her. He was an insanely rich, powerful, and breathtakingly handsome man, and he had practically begged her to spend the night with him.

Bess was going to kill her for turning him down.

Nancy was in the elevator, searching for her room key, when she pulled out her phone and saw two messages waiting. One was from Bess, one from Humphrey. She read the one from Bess first, another grin lighting her face.

_Girl u better call me when u get in! I need *details*!_

Nancy looked at the time on her phone. For Bess it wasn't quite so late, though. Nancy scrolled down to her next message as she exited the elevator and began to walk down the hall, checking her surroundings first.

Then she considered possibly having the dress taken to the hotel's secure storage, just in case whoever had sent her the note had the bright idea to trash her hotel room.

_Think I might have a lead. I'll call u if I get in trouble._

Humphrey had sent her that text while she and Ned had still been at the benefit. Nancy glanced at Humphrey's door before she turned to her own. She didn't hear any noise from within or see a light under the door, but it was late. He was probably already in bed, or out on another one of his informal dates with a secretary. Nancy shrugged. She would talk to him in the morning. She wasn't in the mood to hear his snarky comments about how late she had been out with Ned.

Nancy carefully put the dress back on its hanger and put it in her closet, and sighed with relief as she stepped out of her heels and put them in as well. She headed to the bathroom and removed her makeup and let down her hair.

She still couldn't stop smiling.

She was still wearing Ned's clothes as she slipped off her moderately uncomfortable strapless bra and collapsed onto her bed with her cell phone. She tapped Bess's name in her contact list and listened to the call ring on the other end, wincing as she hoped that her friend hadn't gone to sleep yet.

"Nan! I was starting to give up on hearing from you tonight." Bess yawned. "Is it super-late there?"

"Yeah," Nancy admitted. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah," Bess reassured her. "Hang on, let me go get a soda. Because I swear, you are going to _spill_. I have been dying to hear this story. You looked so totally gorgeous in that picture you sent!"

"Thanks," Nancy said with a giggle. "And I wouldn't have been without your advice. You're a lifesaver, Bess. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Be easily a quarter less fabulous," Bess teased her back immediately. Nancy could hear something rustling, and the sound of a refrigerator door closing. "Okay, I've got my Diet Coke and some chips just in case. Now start at the beginning."

Nancy rolled onto her back. "Well, I told you a little about the case before I left," she said. "A woman named Kate Gordon was killed during a business meeting on a yacht, and Dad was hired by one of the suspects to defend him. So Humphrey and I came here—"

"With your dad, right? Didn't you say he was coming along?" Bess took a sip of her soda.

"He was, but he's gotten hung up with a grand jury thing and he hasn't been able to make it to New York yet. Anyway, we started interviewing suspects. They're all investors."

"Investors, like boring accountant investors or young cute ones? I guess those are the only kinds," Bess said.

"They're... well, we met four of them the first morning. Three guys, one woman. All at least ten years older than us, most of them more like twenty. I didn't like any of them."

"Just had a bad feeling about them, or did you feel like one of them was the murderer?"

"To be honest, I'm still not sure who the murderer is," Nancy said. "I have a hunch, and I'm going to talk to the man in charge of the investment group as soon as I can to confirm it, but I don't know for sure yet. The woman—"

"What was the murder weapon?"

"Handgun, close range," Nancy told Bess.

"Then it probably wasn't the woman, right? Or maybe it was." Bess sighed. "It's so much nicer when it's a murder _attempt_, or when the murderer leaves a handkerchief or some huge clue nearby. Or! Surveillance footage?"

Nancy chuckled. Bess had helped her with so many cases that she was just as familiar with the usual evidence checklist as Nancy herself was. "No surveillance footage, Bess, sorry."

"Go on, then. So you were interviewing suspects."

"Right. We had interviewed four and they were all boring and—greedy, and just unpleasant. Humphrey's old friends with the brother of one of them."

"Say no more," Bess sighed. "I can just picture that."

"Anyway, the fifth partner... we walked into his office and I was just dying to get out of my shoes, my feet were hurting so much. I was just ready to get through it so I could start investigating."

"And I don't blame you. A bunch of boring middle-aged people who aren't even _cute_?" Bess made a dismissive sound.

Nancy chuckled again. "So when we walked into the fifth suspect's office... are you near your computer?"

"I can be. Hang on a sec." Bess grumbled as she found her tablet and plugged it in. "Okay, web browser?"

"Yep. Type in Edmund Nickerson."

Nancy could pinpoint the exact second Bess found a photo of Ned online. "Oh. Holy _shit_. Is this photoshopped? Is this real?"

"Yeah," Nancy laughed. "He's real."

"Is this guy the fifth investor? And he's worth—he's worth _how much_?"

Nancy listened to Bess excitedly read the majority of Ned's biography aloud to her. "And he's twenty-seven?"

"Yes," Nancy said.

"Mmmmm. Please tell me you managed to be incredibly seductive and alluring and sophisticated during the interview and he—is he as super-smooth in person as he looks in these pictures?"

"More," Nancy said, smiling. "And he and I didn't have a chance to talk for too long. He gave me his card, though."

Bess paused. "Hang on, I'm searching whether he's gay or not."

"He's not, Bess." Nancy paused. "Well, if he is then he's at least bi."

"And you know that _how_?" Bess drawled.

"I'd be able to get to that, if you didn't keep interrupting."

"Okay," Bess pouted. "I'll just stare at him and drool quietly to myself while you tell me what happened."

"Well, the next day, I had a few more questions to ask him, so I called and said I was fine interviewing him over the phone, but then his assistant called and said he was ready to talk to me. He sent a car to bring me to him. The car took me to his building, and a helicopter was waiting... to take me to his yacht. His assistant said it would bring me back whenever, and smirked at me like she thought I was just there for some incredibly expensive booty call."

Bess sighed. "I love it. Go on."

"Well, I knew it was the worst idea _ever_, but I got on the helicopter."

"Nan," Bess interrupted. "I would have _shot you_ if you _hadn't_ gotten on the helicopter. Clearly you've seen this man in person. He's not gorgeous, he's... holy _shit_. He's like insanely impossibly handsome, times ten."

"I know," Nancy said. "And I had some questions to ask him, so I went out—and I didn't know we were getting on the yacht until the helicopter arrived. And then he said he was happy I had made it out to see him and invited me on board, and when I told him I'd been doing some research on him, he said he had done some on me too. And he said all this stuff that was actually true about me."

"Like underwear size?"

"Like—oh, I was undercover, remember? He had found out all this stuff about me. Who my father is, where I was going to school."

"Ohhhhh." Bess paused. "How long did it take him to break your cover?"

"Less than twenty-four hours."

"And how did he do that? I'm sure you aren't slipping, Drew."

"Well, he wanted to send me a present at my hotel, but I'm registered here under my real name."

"Mmmm. Nice. What kind of present?"

"He didn't say. Maybe it was an invitation to his yacht, considering. So his personal chef made us this incredible four-course dinner, and then he offered me champagne—and I forgot to say that, practically the second I sat down, the yacht started moving at a pretty good clip. So I was stranded with him, this guy who for all I knew was a murderer. I told him I needed to get back, and we talked about the case, and when I asked him to keep my name a secret, he said he would, if I would keep Saturday night available."

"Oooooooh," Bess breathed. "Oh, I like this. Keep going."

"So Friday he sent me that dress. The one I sent you the picture of. He told me that... he wanted me to wear something almost as beautiful as I was."

Bess squealed. "_Nan!_ Oh my God I am so excited for you! You are so incredibly lucky."

Nancy giggled. "Well, after you told me how much it cost, I told him I couldn't possibly accept it, but he insisted. So tonight he sent a car for me and we went to a benefit in a museum downtown, and we danced and had champagne and then he took me to his apartment, and he had his personal chef make us sundaes. Bess, I swear to God, this chef he has? He is... there are no _words_ for how amazing his food is."

"Orgasmic," Bess said promptly. "I mean, I'm guessing here."

Nancy chuckled. "I told Ned I couldn't possibly eat a sundae in that totally gorgeous dress, so he told me I could wear some of his clothes. So I went to his bedroom, _alone_, and found some of his clothes..."

Nancy had trailed off, debating whether to mention the drawer and its contents, when Bess piped up. "Tell me you went through his medicine cabinet."

"I—didn't, actually," Nancy said. "But I went through his bedside tables just in case he had any... I don't know, secret stuff in there."

"What'd you find, some porn? And I bet you were embarrassed as hell to see it, my innocent best friend," Bess said with a knowing sigh.

"Uh... kind of. Like, condoms and lubricant and... handcuffs, and a... thing..." Nancy was mumbling most of the list, her cheeks flushing.

"A thing?" Bess said immediately, excited. "Like what kind of thing?"

"A... thing like what we saw in that store."

"We saw a _lot_ of things in that store," Bess pointed out, once she figured out Nancy's train of thought. "But, let's see, it's something that clearly shocked the hell out of you, so..." Then her friend started a series of utterly mortifying guesses, each one worse than the last.

"Oh my _God,_ Bess," Nancy gasped out. "No. Ugh, no. A..." She whispered what the item had been.

"Ooooooh," Bess said, delighted. "But, ew, used?"

"It was in a box."

"So probably not, but it sounds like he's got some experience, Nan. And boy, wouldn't I love to give him some more," Bess said wistfully. "An insanely hot man who isn't intimidated by some toys in the bedroom. Please tell me he was flirting with you."

"Oh, he definitely was." Nancy closed her eyes. "When I was about to leave, he kissed me, and he... he asked me to stay with him."

Bess let out a high-pitched squeal. "Oh my God, _really_?"

"Yeah. I told him I couldn't, and he said he was going on a business trip but he wanted to see me again Tuesday. Bess... I told him I'd gotten a note warning me off the case, just in case he was the one who sent it, and he told me to be careful, but when I asked if he wanted me to hold off on investigating while he was gone, he said that he wouldn't ask me to do that. That I... wasn't like anyone else he had ever met. He said he wants to help me investigate, but he hates that when I find out who killed Kate, it means I'll be leaving."

Bess squealed again. "Oh my God, I would jump up and down right now if my parents weren't in bed. Nan, that—oh my God! Girl, he is _totally_ falling for you. Holy _shit_, you have to be the luckiest person I've ever met."

"But what if he _isn't_?" Nancy asked, rolling onto her belly. She bit her lip. "What if he's the killer and he's staying close to me so he can keep tabs on my investigation, and make sure I never find out he's responsible? What if this is all... all some game?"

"Hmm." Bess considered for a minute. "You've met guys who tried that before," she pointed out. "Does—Ned? Seriously, his name is Ned? That so doesn't match how fucking hot he is, at _all_—does he seem to be doing some of that same kind of thing? Do you honestly feel like he's playing you?"

Nancy closed her eyes, bowing her head. "No," she murmured. "But I've been fooled before."

Bess paused again. "How do you feel about _him_?"

Nancy thought about it for a second, then groaned. "Bess, it doesn't matter how I feel about him. Like Humphrey keeps pointing out every twelve seconds, he's a _suspect_, and I can't trust him!"

"Screw Humphrey," Bess replied promptly. "I mean, not literally, but—Humphrey's an idiot. Look, I know it's not ideal circumstances..."

"That's what he said," Nancy said quietly. "That night we were on his yacht together. A toast to imperfect beginnings."

"Exactly," Bess said. "Okay, so you happen to meet this incredible guy... and who cares how it happened? What _matters_ is how you feel about him. So...?"

Nancy sighed again, reluctant to say anything.

"When he asked you to stay with him tonight, were you tempted?" Bess said quietly.

"Yes," Nancy said softly, and then it all came out in a rush. "When I'm around him—it's like I'm drunk. I just want to stare at him. I just—I want to talk to him, I want to be with him, I want to be around him. I get so nervous when I only _think_ about seeing him. And when we look into each other's eyes... God, I had _never_ felt anything like that. I have never. I thought it was just something stupid, that I was just tired and he caught me off guard, but... it's like that every time I see him. When he touched me, when he kissed me..." Nancy let out a long, frustrated moan.

Bess squealed quietly again. "God," she said. "Sweetheart, you are _so_ falling for him. Are you going to sleep with him?"

"Of course not," Nancy said immediately.

"Why 'of course not'?"

Nancy made an incredulous sound. "We just _met!_ We've known each other less than a week, and..."

"And I know you never believed me when I told you this before, but I think you're starting to get it now. When you know, you _know_. And the fact that it's happened with someone this—this totally amazing?" Bess sighed in envy.

Nancy buried her head in her pillow and let out a long groan. "And _that_ means I should sleep with him?"

"It's gonna happen sometime," Bess pointed out pragmatically, "and at least he'd know what he was doing. Besides, your first time isn't going to be that awesome. It's... you just get through it, and then the next time is better. So you need to solve this case, tell your dad that you're hanging out with your Aunt Eloise for a week, lock yourself in his place and ride that gorgeous man like a pony."

Nancy let out an embarrassed laugh. "Bess," she protested.

"What?"

Nancy blushed a little. "I just... I always thought my first time would be romantic, and special," she admitted. "With someone I loved, who loved me. It would be sweet..."

"It might be," Bess said. "But, I don't know. I thought I loved Alan, and I don't regret that we took that step. I'm just saying that if I met this Ned guy, if I felt about him the way that you do, and if I knew that he felt something similar for me... you can bet I'd take advantage of it. You won't be in New York forever."

When Nancy protested again that she still wasn't sure he hadn't been involved in the murder, Bess dismissed it, saying that if Nancy's gut feeling was that he wasn't guilty, he probably wasn't. "Is that what you're really afraid of? Honestly?"

"It's a legitimate concern," Nancy said. "If I don't know who did it, I definitely can't eliminate anyone yet."

Bess paused. "It has to be a little scary for you," she guessed. "I mean, I know you've dated a bunch of guys, but you never really seemed to... to _click_ with any of them, the way it sounds like you have with this one. Not to mention you're so independent and just totally kick-ass all by yourself that most guys find you _super_ intimidating."

"They do?"

Bess chuckled. "Uh, _yeah_. Guys are so easy. Act like you need help, compliment him a lot, make a lot of eye contact and act like he's smart? Piece of cake. But you never do."

Nancy snickered. "Especially if the guy is an idiot who would run at the first sign of danger."

"That doesn't mean he's not good in _other_ ways," Bess pointed out.

"But a guy I couldn't respect, who—who belittles my work or begs me to stop? Ned... he said he knew I could handle myself. He didn't beg me to stop. And when I talked to him about the case, it was—oh God, it was amazing. I really miss when you and George aren't around to help me talk over everything, and talking to Ned..."

"See, _you_ don't believe he's involved," Bess pointed out. "You wouldn't have talked to him about the case if you thought he was."

"He's just so easy to talk to, like we're on the same wavelength..." Nancy sighed again. "And yeah, it is scary," she finally admitted. "I've never felt this way about anyone else, and... oh God, what if he feels the same way?"

"What if he does?" Bess repeated. "If he does, then you owe it to yourself to find out. If you walk away, then it could be from something totally amazing."

After Nancy promised to call Bess if anything else happened, especially with Ned, they wished each other a good night and hung up. Nancy plugged her phone into the charger, then brushed her teeth and turned off the overhead light, lost in thought.

Something Bess had said was sticking with her.

Nancy wouldn't be in New York forever.

The way Bess saw it, Nancy would always regret not exploring the connection she had with Ned, but Nancy let herself think about it. Even if they did feel something for each other, what did it matter? She would be returning to Illinois and college; he would be in New York, where his business was. She remembered Sasha Petrov again, how she had felt about him—and how much of a mistake it would have been for her to hold him back from the life he was meant to lead.

_That was after a _summer_ together, _Nancy reminded herself. _I haven't even known Ned a _week—_if I can even say that I know him now. And he could still be involved._

Bess had said the trick to attracting a man was being vulnerable, but Nancy wasn't—not until she was around Ned. She felt weak around him. All her self-assurance seemed to drain away the second she looked into his eyes.

Nancy buried her head in the pillow, trying as hard as she could to just dismiss it all from her mind so she could get some sleep, but she couldn't forget how incredible his kisses had felt.

And if she solved the case tomorrow when she went to speak to Carlton... then that would be it. She wouldn't see Ned again. She and Humphrey would return home, and tonight would just be one of those events in her life...

God. She couldn't imagine never kissing him again.

When she found herself just growing more and more upset, she gave up, reached for the remote and turned on the television, flipping through until she found an old British mystery movie.

That stricken look on his face when they had discussed her being close to the end of the case. She understood. She felt the same.

She had no idea when she actually fell asleep. She woke with the television still on, sunlight coming through the gap between the curtains, and when she shifted the remote control fell off the bed. She groaned and pushed herself up to read her alarm clock, then reached for her phone, half expecting to see a message from Humphrey asking when they would be meeting for breakfast.

No new messages from anyone, not even Humphrey.

Apparently he'd had a late night too. She sighed, then pulled herself out of bed.

She was in the shower, already planning what she was going to say to Carlton if he was available, when she realized that she still didn't know what lead Humphrey had been tracking down—and whether he had already talked to Carlton. She hastily dried her hair, then went to her cell phone. If Humphrey was still asleep, she didn't want to wake him with a call.

_Hey, got your message. Breakfast?_

Nancy sent the text to Humphrey and went back to the bathroom to brush her teeth before she picked up her phone again and called Carlton Gordon's assistant. When she said she only had a few questions to ask him, but they were urgent, the assistant said she would pass that along and call Nancy back. From the tone in her voice, Nancy didn't hold out much hope. Nevertheless, she selected a sleeveless top made of a silky ivory material and stepped into a navy pencil skirt.

She had just pulled the wand out of her tube of mascara when her phone rang. The caller ID told her that Gordon's assistant was calling back. "He has a little time this morning," the assistant reported, almost grudgingly. "Can you do that?"

"I can," Nancy said, thanking the woman after they agreed on a time and location. Quickly she finished applying her makeup, the entire time listening for her phone, but it stayed silent. She checked it just in case. No message from Humphrey.

_Have to run to a meeting. I'll let you know when I'm back. Still asleep?_

When Humphrey didn't respond, Nancy frowned at her phone. Surely he wasn't sulking and giving her the silent treatment for going out with Ned last night. She couldn't imagine him being so petty. Then again...

She couldn't help it. She didn't have a good feeling about it.

She didn't have time to do anything about it yet, though. She had to rush down to the lobby and catch a cab for her meeting.

Carlton Gordon looked very somber and composed in his dark suit, and Nancy gave him a small smile as they shook hands. "Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice."

Gordon nodded. "I'm sorry, I don't have long. Can I offer you something to drink?"

Nancy shook her head and took a seat. "I'll get right to the point. From everything I've seen, I truly believe the key to figuring out what happened is that night on the boat, and the topic up for discussion at that meeting."

Carlton shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "The matter is confidential," he said, then glanced up at Nancy.

Nancy nodded. "I understand that, and I know you can't tell me specifically what it was. But I think you can at least tell me this. Was a government contract or project up for discussion?"

Carlton gave her a blank look, but Nancy caught the almost imperceptible shuttering in his face. Pay dirt. "I can't comment," he said, his tone flat.

Nancy took a deep breath. "Did it have anything to do with Interregnum?"

His brow furrowed just slightly. "What's that?"

Nancy tilted her head. "Does it mean anything to you?"

He shook his head slowly, but he still looked like he was lost in thought, much the way Ned had the night before. "Not specifically," he said. "Do you have any other questions, Miss Drew?"

Nancy shook her head. "Not right now. If you happen to think of what Interregnum could mean, please call me."

Once he agreed to do so, Nancy headed back to the hotel, impatiently checking her cell phone. She finally broke down and called Humphrey's cell, but her call immediately went to voicemail. She tried to tell herself that he had just let his phone's battery die and that was why he had never answered her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that. Humphrey had been almost obsessive about making sure his phone was fully charged at all times.

Then she called the hotel's front desk and had the operator put her through to Humphrey's room phone. It rang and rang interminably, until Nancy gave up.

The taxi pulled up at the hotel and Nancy rushed to the front desk. When she and Humphrey had checked in, their reservations had been separate, and she hadn't given him a copy of her room key. She didn't have one of his, either, so she couldn't just go check his room. "Hello," she said to the clerk. "My name is Nancy Drew, and I checked in with Humphrey Corbett. I've been trying his cell and his room phone, but he's not answering, and I'm worried that... well, that he had a little too much to drink last night and might need medical attention," she fibbed. "Could you get someone to open the door for me just so I can make sure he's all right?"

After a little more cajoling, the clerk sent a bellhop up with Nancy in the elevator. Nancy told herself that she was overreacting, that he had just met up with a particularly friendly administrative assistant and spent the night in her hotel room, that she wasn't going to find him passed out, injured—especially if she could have helped him by finding him more quickly.

The bellhop opened the room for her, and the lights were off. Nancy flipped them on, immediately scanning the room. "Humphrey?" she called.

The trash can was full of snack wrappers and empty soda bottles, and while the coverlet was pulled up, she could still see the indention left from Humphrey's body when he had sprawled out to watch television. The housekeeping staff hadn't yet made it by his room. The bathroom door was open, the lights off.

His cell phone charger was still plugged into the base of the lamp on the desk. His television was off. She didn't see his laptop bag or his laptop, but when she crossed to the other side of the bed, she saw the laptop charger still plugged into an outlet on that side.

Nancy frowned. She couldn't imagine him packing up his computer but leaving the charger unless he was in a tremendous hurry. Even though she saw no sign of a struggle, that didn't mean there hadn't been one—or that someone hadn't taken him away at gunpoint. But she just didn't know.

She didn't like it. And if she was right, if Humphrey hadn't just spent the night with some flirty office assistant, he was in trouble.

And she had no idea what lead he had been investigating to get him there.


	8. Chapter 8

Nancy thanked the bellhop and said that Humphrey must have stayed the night with a friend, forcing a smile until he left. Then she did a more thorough search of the room once she was alone. His luggage and clothes, toiletries, were all still there. The last time she had seen him—Nancy closed her eyes tightly and thought back to the night before, when he had followed her onto the elevator. Pale yellow polo shirt and black pants. She remembered thinking that the yellow really didn't do any favors for his complexion.

She sighed and shook her head. The polo shirt wasn't in his discarded clothes, so wherever he was, he was probably still wearing it.

_And if he had a one-night stand and he's on the way back now..._

Nancy didn't really care. She had already waited too long, and she had a bad feeling that the night before he _had_ run into trouble, but hadn't figured it out in time to call her. And if the murderer had him...

_Don't think about it,_ she told herself. _He's okay. And I'll find him._

While it would have been awful to find his phone in the room, at least that way Nancy would have a record of his recent calls. Since the hotel charged for calls using the room phone, she doubted she could find out that way. Frustrated, she glanced around the room again and spotted a blank pad on the desk. If he had sat down there and jotted down anything...

She sat down quickly and ran her fingertip over the surface of the pad, then held it up and angled it into the light, but didn't see any impressions, even faint ones, on its surface. Hurriedly she dug through her purse and pulled out a small pencil, then gently ran the edge of the lead over the surface of the paper. She made out a few faint lines, but when she picked up the pad and scrutinized them, they were only rectangles and triangles. Someone, maybe not even Humphrey, had probably idly doodled them while on the telephone.

Nancy let out a frustrated groan. The government lead was the most promising one she had, and she needed to research it, but it would probably be even faster to locate Humphrey. Nancy flipped the security bar so she could get back into Humphrey's room, then quickly retrieved her own laptop with its bag and power cord and brought them back.

He had spent of their time in New York hanging out with Cantoni, and maybe they had made a date for Sunday, one she didn't know about. Nancy didn't have Vincent's card, though, since Humphrey had handled contacting him. She found a number that looked promising online, and after thirty minutes of working her way through the labyrinth of contact information, she managed to leave a message with his secretary to have him call her back as soon as he possibly could, about a business matter.

Once she hung up, she felt so frustrated and anxious that her hands were trembling a little. "Okay, focus," she murmured. "He'll walk through that door just as smartass as ever any minute. In the meantime, though..."

Nancy went through her papers and found the list of primary investments for each of the partners. She pinned her hair up, uncapped a highlighter and went to work, and when she was finished, she had at least tentatively eliminated Parker and Nickerson from her suspect list. Neither of them seemed to have side projects that the government could possibly be interested in, or at least not ones that seemed to cross Mark Armstruther's interests. Mark was far more interested in tech, but tech with consumer applications, from everything she could see. Ned, she noted with a smile, had invested in projects with NASA applications, but they were strictly non-militaristic.

She wasn't sure why, but she had a hunch that it hadn't just been a government project, but one with military applications. That would explain Mark's reluctance. She was just considering calling Mark to see if he would confirm her logical leap when her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Miss Mallory?"

"Yes," Nancy answered. "This is she."

"This is Vincent Cantoni. You called?"

"Yes... Humphrey and I had an appointment for breakfast this morning, and he missed it. I just wanted to see if you had heard from him, or if you were planning on seeing him later on today, and if so, just to tell him to contact me."

"Oh. No, I haven't heard from him today. I spoke to him yesterday, but I didn't have plans to see him today. Did you try his cell phone?"

Nancy bristled just a little at Cantoni's tone, but when she replied, her voice was even. "I have, but I guess he let the battery die," she said with a light laugh. "Well, I'm sure I'll hear from him soon. Sorry to bother you."

"It's no problem. If I hear from him I'll be sure to call you. Is this a good number for you?"

"It is," she replied. "Thank you so much. Sorry, again."

"It's fine."

Once they hung up, Nancy made a face at the phone. At least now she had a way to call him back quickly.

Interregnum. She considered calling Cantoni back and asking him if he could place the reference, but before she did, she looked down at her phone. Maybe Ned had figured out where he heard it.

Nancy flushed a little as she imagined calling him again, then forced herself to tap his name in her contact list before she changed her mind. He was probably on the way to his business trip, anyway—

He picked up on the second ring. "Hello, beautiful. I was just thinking about you."

"Oh?" Nancy flush deepened, and she had to force herself to remember why she had called. "Um—I just wanted to ask if you'd remembered where you heard Interregnum."

"Believe me, I stayed up entirely too late last night trying to remember," he told her. "That, and remembering how incredibly sexy you looked in my shirt. Are you still wearing it?"

Nancy couldn't believe how warmly she was blushing. "I had to take it off for my shower," she told him, before she could stop herself.

Ned groaned, his voice low. "Oh, you should have called first. I definitely would have come over for that."

Nancy closed her eyes. "Ned," she whispered.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. And no, I haven't placed it yet, but I'm still thinking about it. You want to brainstorm over lunch? I can put my flight off, and tell Louis you'll be coming over. His eyes light up when I tell him that. I think he has a crush on you, and he always does his best work for you."

"Well, he definitely has a gift," Nancy teased Ned. "And a man who can cook like that..."

"You're breaking my heart," Ned told her. "I don't stand a chance, do I. So you'll definitely come over for lunch, so I can try to impress you some other way? My skills in the kitchen might be a little lacking, but I can definitely make up for it other ways."

Nancy glanced down. "As tempting as your offer is," she said, "I have a bit of a problem, and Louis will just have to impress me with his incredible talent some other time."

"Well, even if Louis and his cooking aren't enough of a temptation, I notice that I'm still on the list," Ned murmured, his voice low and almost dark, and Nancy felt a shudder go all the way down her spine.

"Would you mind coming over to brainstorm with me? I've just... uh, misplaced my associate, and I don't want to leave the hotel if he could walk back in any minute and explain why he's been AWOL all morning."

"Ahh. And he's not answering his cell phone, I'd guess."

"He's not," she confirmed.

"I'll be right over, then. Maybe I'll even get Louis to whip up a little snack first."

Nancy actually let out an audible moan at the suggestion. "Really? I was going to have to get room service, and I haven't had anything to eat yet today."

"And I'm too much of a gentleman to let a woman in need starve to death." Ned chuckled. "I'll come over and have him send over something spectacular for us."

After they hung up, Nancy tried to focus on doing research, and went over the information in front of her. All of it was public record or information she and Humphrey had found through their legitimate interaction with the company, so she didn't need to hide any of it. Just in case, though, Nancy checked her reflection and made sure her makeup wasn't smeared or in need of a touch-up.

They would be alone, in a bedroom, together. She knew that was a bad idea, but she also didn't want to leave Humphrey's room if he might return to it any minute.

She heard a knock at the door and smoothed her hair before she looked through the peephole. Ned was standing there, and he looked even more handsome than she remembered. When she opened the door and their eyes met, Nancy's heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Hi," she replied with a smile, stepping back so Ned could enter. "Thanks for coming over."

"For you? Anytime," Ned said with a grin. "If you don't like Chinese, say so now. I think Louis is planning a Cantonese feast for us."

"I can't wait," Nancy said.

To Nancy's relief and mild disappointment, when she spread out the research and showed Ned what she was looking for, he immediately caught on and focused on the case. "And how did you come up with this hunch?" Ned asked, still looking over the papers.

Nancy shrugged. "It had to be something Mark didn't support," she pointed out. "And something confidential that you wouldn't even tell me last night? That had to be serious."

Ned glanced over at her, then. "That's not all last night was," he said softly. "Was it?"

Nancy took a long breath and shook her head. "No," she replied, just as quietly. "It wasn't."

Ned relaxed a little. "I didn't think it was," he murmured. "Well, I can't tell you anything that you haven't already found out, so what is it, _exactly_, that you've been told?"

"I've been told," Nancy said, crossing her fingers a little behind her back, "that the proposal was related to a government project, possibly military. But that's all." Technically Carlton hadn't _told_ her—not verbally, anyway.

"But I still can't specifically figure out why _that_ project would have gotten Kate killed," Ned said, still scanning all her data. "Wow, you _were_ thorough."

"Humphrey did help," Nancy admitted, but she blushed a little at the praise.

"And you think the person responsible has him."

Nancy sighed and sat down in the desk chair. "It's just a hunch," she admitted. "No foul play here, no sign of a struggle, no note. But he sent me a text message last night that he was tracking down a lead, and he would call me if he ran into trouble."

"So did he call?"

Nancy shook her head. "He didn't. But he also didn't call to tell me _anything_. His bed looks like it hasn't been slept in. His laptop and bag are gone, but not the charger for either that or his phone. If he went on a date last night and he's still sleeping it off in some secretary's apartment, why would he have his laptop and bag with him? _And_ why wouldn't he call me from that person's place?"

Ned shrugged. "But his phone's off, for sure."

Nancy nodded. "There's no ring before it flips over to voicemail," she said.

"And it's definitely not here somewhere," he said.

"Well, I haven't checked the air conditioning vents or between the mattress and box springs," she said with a little smile, "but I did a search and haven't found it."

Ned nodded. "And he's not a forgetful kind of guy who might have left it at a restaurant or something last night, and that's why he's not answering?"

Nancy shook her head. "He and that cell phone are joined at the hip," she told him.

"Well, in _that_ case... mind if I make a call?"

Nancy told him that was fine, and as soon as he took out his phone, they heard a knock at the door. For a second Nancy was startled to realize that she was looking forward to Louis's arrival more than she was hoping Humphrey would be there.

She glanced through the peephole and saw Louis standing there, and opened the door for him with a smile. "You're an angel," she told him as he crossed to the small table.

"I didn't have much time," he said apologetically. "The duck is small, but I made plenty of egg rolls. The place settings are in this bag."

Nancy was ready to dig enough change for two sodas out of her purse when she saw a large bottle of Perrier tucked into the bag. "He's as thoughtful as Hannah," she commented under her breath with a smile.

Ned completed his call and came over, helping her unpack their lunch. "Hannah?" he repeated.

Nancy nodded. "Hannah Gruen. My father's housekeeper for practically my entire life." Nancy glanced up at him. "She helped raise me whenever Dad wasn't home, and that was a lot."

"I can imagine," he said sympathetically. "With any luck, I'll get a call right after we finish lunch, but in the meantime..."

They set the table together, and served their plates with roasted duck, fried rice, and the egg rolls, pouring plastic cups of Perrier to go with it. Nancy sighed in anticipation, just looking at the meal.

Ned chuckled. "I should definitely give Louis a bonus," he commented softly, "just for putting that smile on your face."

Nancy glanced up at Ned again, her lips still curved up. "He's definitely a frontrunner in the race," she told him.

Ned shook his head. "But I'm definitely not going to bow out without a fight," he told her. "So, Hannah..."

Nancy was just closing her eyes with delight at the first bite of her duck. "Mmm. Yes. She's a fantastic cook, but she despairs at ever being able to teach me how. I just..." Nancy shrugged. "I mean, I can throw together spaghetti or something quick, but anything longer, and I get... distracted."

Ned nodded in agreement. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Are you implying you even know how to boil water, Mr. Nickerson?"

"I will have you know that _I_," Ned said with pride, "have graduated to the occasional grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup, thank you."

"From a can?"

"Never," Ned said with a wink. "But at least my mother taught me to make it with milk and butter instead of water."

A soft smile was curving his lips, and Nancy tilted her head. From everything she had read about him—but his parents weren't high-profile. His family name carried the cache of some inherited influence, but that didn't mean he had grown up in the lap of luxury.

Nancy was on her fourth forkful of fried rice and considering asking him about his own childhood when Ned's phone rang, and he excused himself, rising to answer it. He made a few notes on the pad that Nancy had been studying earlier, then thanked the person on the other end of the call and hung up, returning to the table.

Nancy's eyes were alight as she studied him. "A lead?"

He nodded. "But it can wait until we're finished," he said, nodding at his plate. "You need your strength, after all."

Nancy wrinkled her nose at him. "Now _you_ sound like Hannah," she told him.

"So Hannah is a disarmingly charming six-foot-two man?"

"Hmm. Pretty much the opposite," she admitted. "Although she is very sweet, and very considerate. She's the closest person I have to a mother."

Nancy didn't trust herself to look up for a moment, but when she did, Ned's dark eyes were gazing sympathetically at her. "I can't imagine what that would have been like," he said quietly.

Nancy shrugged. "It was a long time ago," she said, and forced a smile. "But we're not here to talk about me, we're here to find Humphrey."

"Your cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die not-boyfriend."

Nancy nodded firmly. "Although he did beg me not to go out with you last night."

Ned made a soft sound. "Sounds like we might need to find this guy just so _I_ can have a talk with him," he commented. "And I'm glad you didn't listen. You... you were breathtaking last night."

She smiled at him. "And that was all thanks to you," she said. "That amazing dress..."

Ned shook his head. "You could have been wearing a pair of jeans and—and one of my Harvard t-shirts," he said with a smile, "and you still would have been the most beautiful woman in that room. In the _city_."

Nancy blushed and ducked, shaking her head. "Definitely not," she murmured.

Ned touched her hand. "Look at me, Nancy," he said softly. "I mean it. Every word."

Nancy raised her head and searched his eyes, and he looked completely sincere. His hand stayed on hers, and that same tunnel vision came back to her, leaving her almost quivering with the knowledge that they were alone, they wouldn't be interrupted, and God, she was almost aching to feel him so close to her again...

It took massive effort for her to break their locked gazes. "And you would look breathtakingly handsome in anything you put on, too," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Even a pair of jeans and that Harvard t-shirt."

Ned started to reply, then shook his head with a chuckle. "We'd better finish our lunch and talk about the lead," he said. "Else we would just have to see who looks better in that shirt... or without it."

Nancy felt herself flush again and covered by finishing her egg roll and duck. By the time they were finished with their meal she was pretty sure she was back to normal, even if her insides still quivered every time she caught a glimpse of him.

"Okay," Ned said finally, wiping his mouth with one of the cloth napkins Louis had packed with their meal. "I called in a favor and had Humphrey's cell phone tracked."

Nancy's eyes widened, and she pushed away her mostly-finished plate. "Why didn't you say so? Oh, Ned, that's brilliant! It would've taken me hours to get that done."

Ned smiled. "Sometimes it can be really damn nice, to just pick up a phone and ask someone to make something happen," he admitted. "Anyway, the last cell tower Humphrey's phone hit before it was turned off, or died, last night, was in Brooklyn. I wrote down the address. I'll call my driver and we can head over there and look for clues—if that's okay with you." He was clearly excited by the prospect, but he backtracked as he apparently remembered that it was _her_ case, and her decision.

"Don't call your driver," she told him, standing. "We'll take a cab. It won't draw nearly as much attention."

Ned stood too, and for a second Nancy just let herself gaze at him. He wore a powder-blue button-down and tailored grey slacks, and looked like he had just stepped off the pages of a magazine photo shoot. That same unruly lock of dark hair was brushing his forehead, and the sight of it just begged her to reach up and push it back, to run her fingers through his hair, to tip her face up to his...

She smiled. "Although that ship may have sailed," she said.

Ned glanced down at his outfit, following her gaze. "What?"

Nancy shook her head. "You are easily hot enough to stop traffic, even without a hired car," she told him.

She was gratified when Ned was the one to duck his head. "Oh, stop," he said.

"What's the address?"

Ned gave it to her, and Nancy went over to her printed research, then groaned in frustration. She wasn't familiar enough with the area where the address fell to know what the connection might be, and besides, her lists weren't even organized that way. Maybe Humphrey had been en route somewhere when his phone had died. She grabbed her list of businesses and ventures associated with all the partners, picked up her purse, and gestured for Ned to follow her.

They were in the elevator when Ned's brow furrowed. "Mind if I look through those?" he asked.

Nancy shook her head. "Go ahead," she said, handing the sheets over. When the elevator doors opened Ned was so distracted that he was walking slowly. Nancy, impatient, grabbed his hand and steered him to the sidewalk in front of the hotel, guiding him behind her so he didn't run into anyone on the way, and her heart skipped a beat when she had to release his hand to flag down a cab.

Ned was chuckling when he opened the cab's door for Nancy, then slid inside to sit beside her. "What?" she asked.

"Been a while," he explained.

Nancy wrinkled her nose at him, her eyes sparkling, then called the address out to the taxi driver. When she turned back to Ned, he wasn't looking at the sheets anymore. Instead, he seemed to be staring into space.

"It wasn't Interregnum," he said suddenly. "There was a name. D'Agostini. The other name was—French? I think. But it wasn't Interregnum. It was... kingdom, something..."

He reached for his cell phone, and Nancy picked up the stack of papers he had discarded, searching through them herself. He was right. It hadn't been Interregnum.

The literal translation was between kingdoms, but that wasn't right, not quite. She skimmed all the papers without seeing anything called kingdom and shook her head.

"Third Kingdom," Ned said suddenly. "That was what it was. Third Kingdom."

Nancy squeezed her eyes tight shut. "I saw that," she breathed. "It was... it was in the caption of a photo. Smiling... Kate Gordon."

When she opened her eyes, Ned was staring at her, his own wide. "It was a partnership between her and someone else," he said. "Between her and..."

"Vincent Cantoni," Nancy said, her heart sinking. "Oh my God. No wonder he was hanging out with Humphrey so much. He was keeping an eye on the investigation. And I told Humphrey last night that on Monday we'd start asking all the partners about Interregnum."

"You think he started early?"

Nancy nodded. "And when I talked to Cantoni earlier... God, he probably thinks Humphrey's the person he needs to go after, but it's me, Ned. He was trying to stop the investigation, but he caught the wrong person."

"Then we have to find them," Ned said grimly. "Before it's too late."


	9. Chapter 9

The official address for Third Kingdom, or the one Ned was able to find, anyway, was a post office box. That didn't do them any good whatsoever.

Then Ned reached for the papers again. "Did you print off a list of holdings?" he asked, distracted.

Nancy shook her head. "Physical properties? No. Should we try tax listings?"

"Great idea," Ned said with a grin, pulling out his phone.

By the time the cab reached the address Nancy had given the driver, though, neither of them had been able to find a good lead for where Humphrey might be. Ned paid off the taxi driver and gave him a generous tip, and Nancy glanced around, hoping something in the area might trigger her memory. Their surroundings were pretty dilapidated, though, and she and Ned were both dressed well. She didn't exactly feel exposed, but she didn't want to stay on the street too long.

Ned walked over to a brick building and leaned his back against it, staring down at his cell phone screen. "Cantoni's home is nowhere near here," he said, flicking his fingertip up the screen to scroll. "And I'm finding his office space. But that's it."

Nancy peered at her own cell screen. "And the only address I'm finding is that damn post office box," she muttered. "_Damn it._"

Ned glanced up, and Nancy met his eyes. "I could have Cantoni's cell tracked," he said slowly.

Nancy frowned. Finding the location of Cantoni's cell phone wouldn't necessarily tell them where Humphrey was, and they still had no conclusive proof linking the two of them. "Let me try one more thing," she said. "What was that name you said?"

"D'Agostini," he said. "Narrow your search to this borough, but that's still gonna return a lot of hits."

"Maybe on residential property," she said with a raised eyebrow. "But commercial is better on a Sunday, wouldn't you think?"

Ned shrugged. "Good point," he said.

Both Nancy and Ned were practically dancing with impatience the whole time, and he began his own search. Almost simultaneously they drew in a sharp breath.

"Vincent D'Agostini," Nancy said, turning her cell screen to show it to Ned even as he did the same thing.

"A little too convenient, don't you think?" Ned said, grabbing her hand. "That's three blocks from here. Cab, or walk it?"

"Walk it," Nancy decided, putting her phone back in her purse before she and Ned dashed down the street.

They approached the warehouse cautiously. Nancy patted her purse, thinking of the lockpick kit she always kept in it. The doors looked like they were made of steel, and the windows were far too high to reach. "Split up?" she asked. "Whoever finds Humphrey first calls the other?"

Ned nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "Be careful, okay?"

Nancy nodded. "You too," she said seriously. He wasn't nearly as accustomed to this kind of situation as she was.

He squeezed her hand, and a few minutes later he disappeared around the side of the building. Nancy walked to a door that was partially obscured in shadow, reaching into her purse for the lockpick kit.

Nancy knew the trick for breaking into any place without being detected was confidence, but adrenaline was making working on the lock a little tougher than usual. Finally it clicked, and she very gently pulled the tools out and replaced them in the velvet roll, then put her hand on the knob. The mechanism felt a little rusted, and Nancy fought the urge to glance around as she slowly turned it.

The interior of the warehouse was shadowy and very dusty, the air still and almost painfully hot, but she noticed a stack of unfaded boxes near a closed loading door and walked over to investigate, keeping her weight balanced on the balls of her feet so her heels wouldn't sound against the concrete floor. As she took her gingerly steps she studied the scuff marks in the dust on the floor, noting that they led to what appeared to be an office-type space separated from the warehouse floor. When she heard a distant creaking sound she very nearly jumped. It could be Ned, or someone else in the warehouse—or a car backfiring outside.

The new cartons didn't have any distinguishing marks on the outside, but Nancy spotted a packing list sleeve and gently worked the folded contents free, then unfolded the sheet. The string of letters and numbers didn't mean anything to her, but it looked like good evidence, and the phrase "Third Kingdom" was printed in the "Ship To:" area. She slipped it into her purse, then pulled out her lockpick kit again.

Making her way through the locked office door was tedious, and she was disappointed to find that the doors behind it were also locked. The office space itself looked at least partially abandoned; she found a room full of old office equipment, upholstery torn and orange foam padding spilling from the gaps, and no sign of any recent occupation. The gloom was even more intense on this side of the partition, and Nancy took out her keychain flashlight, studying the floor again. The area was carpeted, though, and while it was just as filthy as the rest of the space, tracks were harder to make out.

When she opened the third door, though, she hit pay dirt. Humphrey was sitting in one of those decrepit office chairs, his hands behind him, bound and gagged. His hair was mussed, and his face and shirt were streaked with the same dust she had seen outside.

"Humphrey!" Nancy whispered. "Hang on, I just need to—"

Nancy was pulling her cell phone out of her purse to call Ned for backup when Humphrey's eyes widened. "Mmmmm," he groaned urgently, his eyebrows rising in an expression of surprise.

Nancy was just turning when she felt an arm snake, quick as lightning, around her neck. She struggled as hard as she could, scrambling to reach her pepper spray, and tried to draw a breath for a scream, but the arm only tightened. She brought her knee up and stabbed her heel into her attacker's leg, as close to his knee as she could judge, and he staggered back a few steps, but the pain only seemed to enrage him.

The last thing she heard before she passed out, clawing desperately at the arm wrapped around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, was Humphrey's urgent groan.

* * *

"Mmmm."

Nancy woke with a painful gasp, jerking her head up. The room she was in was very dim, and the only light came through a transom window over the door.

"Mmm."

Her mouth was dry, a gag tied tightly over her face, and she fought the urge to choke against it. The taste of it was stale and cottony in her mouth. Nancy let her gaze roam around the room as she tentatively tried her bonds. Her ankles were bound together, and her hands were bound behind her. The rope or twine was tight but not constricting, and for that, at least, she was thankful. When she began to raise her hands behind her, though, she found her wrists were also bound to the frame of the chair, which felt like a sturdy metal one. She wouldn't be able to break it and free herself without a lot of loud effort.

Humphrey was sitting beside her. She was in the same room where she had found him. But she didn't see any sign of Ned, so that at least gave her some hope. She just hoped he wasn't captured, or at least not as easily as she had been.

Working the gag off took some time, but it seemed the most likely confinement to escape, and after steady, patient work Nancy was finally able to partially free herself from it. She gasped in a breath, then nearly choked as the air hit her throat. Being choked earlier had left her neck sore, and using her shoulder to work the gag off had left it throbbing at the exertion, since her bound hands hadn't afforded her much range of motion.

"Humphrey," she whispered, once she found her voice again. It came out a little raspy, though. "It's Vincent, isn't it."

Humphrey nodded, his eyes wide and apologetic. He had also been trying to work his gag off as she had been, but with less success.

"You want _how much_?"

Cantoni's agitated voice filtered through the flimsy door between them. Nancy glanced around and saw what she thought and hoped was her purse strap, caught in a faint strip of light. With any luck, her cell phone was still inside, and she would be able to free herself and call Ned and the police.

For a moment Nancy sent up fervent thanks that she had been lucky enough to be born when cell phones were relatively cheap and convenient. She couldn't even count the number of times she would have been killed without one.

Humphrey wriggled violently a few more times and managed to work the gag down enough to speak. "When I was looking through all the research I saw the name D'Agostini," he whispered. "I remembered that the name had some connection to Vinnie's family, like it was his mother's maiden name or something, and I called to ask him about it. He said we should meet..." Humphrey rolled his eyes. "God. I feel like such an idiot."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Nancy whispered. "It happens."

"But you kept warning me," Humphrey pointed out, his voice hushed. "I just didn't believe this guy could have _done _this."

"Did he tell you what was going on?"

Humphrey shook his head. "He asked me what I knew, who I'd talked to. I think he was planning on getting me to call you so you'd meet me and he could get you, just in case, but my phone's dead. Guess I sent a few too many texts yesterday."

Nancy shrugged, looking around the room again for some kind of instrument she could use to saw at their bonds. "Do you know what he's planning?" she asked softly.

Humphrey made a quiet humming sound. "I really think the only reason I'm not dead right now is that he had appointments this morning," he admitted. "He acted so—so _different_, last night, when I was talking to him. I—I couldn't sleep, I just kept thinking, this is it..."

Nancy gave him a reassuring glance. "Look, I've been in much worse situations before," she told him quietly. "We're going to be okay. It's almost over, I promise. And, Humphrey..." She found him constantly annoying, but she would never have wished a night spent alone, tied up in a warehouse, waiting to die, on him. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think you'd be in any danger, not like this."

Vinnie, apparently unhappy with his previous conversation, was muttering to himself on the other side of the door as he placed another call.

"Yeah. Yeah, we have to move it. Like _now_. ... I don't fucking _care_ what it costs. I'll be here. Have some loose ends to tie up."

He was referring to them, Nancy knew. While he hadn't been explicit about it during the previous call, she had a bad feeling he had called a professional, to see how much it would cost to have someone else take care of killing them, and of disposing of their bodies in a way that wouldn't be traced back to him.

_Ned_, Nancy said silently. _Please, God, get out of here. Call the cops and get out of here._

They both heard Vinnie's hand on the doorknob, but neither of them had the time to get their gags back into place before he opened the door. Nancy squinted at his silhouette, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden light.

"Won't be long now," he told them. Then he glared at Nancy. "Tell anyone else you were coming here?"

Nancy shook her head, her eyes wide. "No," she promised.

Vincent narrowed his eyes at her. "How'd you find this place?"

"He—he left a note," Nancy said, gesturing at Humphrey with a shrug.

Vincent turned to Humphrey, an enraged expression on his face. "You told me," he began dangerously, taking a step toward the cowering man, "you _swore_ to me that you hadn't left a note—"

"He didn't!" Nancy interjected, her voice almost shrill with tension that was only partially feigned. "I swear he didn't! I—I saw a notepad and tried this trick I saw in a movie once, rubbing a pencil lead over it. Otherwise I would never have found it."

"And that note? Have it with you?" Vincent asked, and Nancy was panicking when she saw him shake his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure you have your hotel keycard and I'll search your room for it. When I join in the search for you two." He shook his head again, snorting. "If you had just kept the _fuck_ out of it, you idiot..."

"What's going on?" Nancy asked tentatively. "I mean—Look, Mr. Cantoni, if you let me—_us_, go—I swear, I won't say anything to anyone. Please. This all has to just be some huge misunderstanding."

"Shut up," Vincent said, his voice flat. "You've seen _this_. You've seen too much. I swear, I'm so fucking _sick_ of nosy women, of all of you, asking too many damn questions. I have been working so damn hard to make this deal go through and you two are _not_ gonna stand in my way."

"We _won't_," Nancy swore, shaking her head. "Just let us go and I _promise_, we won't talk to anyone." She closed her eyes for a second, working up a tear, then let it fall down her cheek. She felt it dampen the gag still tied around her face.

"Promise," Humphrey agreed, his voice muffled, and he nodded too.

"You don't want to kill anyone," Nancy said, her voice trembling a little. "You're a good guy. You don't want to kill someone else."

When Vincent looked at her again, his eyes were wide, almost wild. "I don't," he agreed, an edge in his voice. "But I have no choice. Don't you see that? She was—she was gonna go to her father, tell him about it, and that would have ruined _everything_, and she just didn't fucking care, that goody-two-shoes..."

He was pacing, and Nancy was working on the bonds tied around her wrists. She could feel them becoming raw, but she still had no idea where Ned was, and she couldn't count on his suddenly appearing before Vincent finally decided he couldn't risk their being alive any longer.

"And Mark?" Nancy prompted quietly, keeping her eyes wide. "You had to get him out of the way too, didn't you."

"Him?" Vincent snorted. "That pacifist asshole. All talk and no fucking action. Good thing I didn't bring him in first off like I was thinking. Damn whistle-blower. Would've served him right if I'd shot him and dumped his body over the side for fish food, but I needed someone to take the fall."

"And to make sure he couldn't vote when the matter came up again."

Vincent nodded. Nancy had been so focused on watching his expression that she almost missed the second when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. "It was a win-win," he said, shaking his head. "Two birds, one stone. Or one bullet, as it were." He snorted. "And when the cops finally get off their lazy asses and ask me who I think was involved, I'll be sure they get him for it. Too bad I can't make it look like he was involved here, too."

Nancy swallowed hard when Cantoni raised the gun and pointed it at Humphrey. "I thought you didn't want to do this," she said, her voice desperate.

"I don't," he repeated, but he sounded a lot calmer than he had. "I did everything I could to make you walk away from this," he said, shaking his head as he looked at Humphrey. "I would've brought you in on it, you know. On the ground floor. Why did you keep fucking _digging_?"

Humphrey's eyes were wide as he glanced over at Nancy, and she took a deep breath. "It wasn't him," she said, and Vincent turned to look at her, the gun swiveling toward her as he did. Nancy's heart was pounding, but she continued, stalling for time. "When I heard about what happened on the boat I just couldn't let it go. I don't know, I just thought maybe I could figure out who did it. And he... he went along with it. He thought it was a fun game." Nancy shook her head. "But I was an idiot, and I'm sorry. _Please, please_, I'm begging you, let us go."

Vincent shook his head again. "Like I possibly could now," he said, his voice almost flat. "Maybe I can get the guys to dump you two in the basement of Mark's building. That would be so very sweet. Two more chances to get him put away for life."

He leveled the gun, and Nancy swallowed hard. "Is that the same gun you used to kill her?"

Vincent shook his head. "Couldn't get it off the boat; I knew they were gonna search everyone, so it was either leave it with her or throw it over the side. Won't need gloves this time, though. By the time they find you two, I'll be long gone."

It took supreme effort for Nancy to look at Cantoni's face instead of the gun that was pointed at her. "Please, don't," she tried again, playing on his sympathies. If he saw Ann Mallory as a human being who deserved his sympathy, he would be a lot less likely to hurt or kill her. She had a feeling that his closer relationship with Humphrey would at least give him some small pause. "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

He stepped closer to her, and now the muzzle of the gun was only a foot away from Nancy's head. "If it's the pain you're afraid of," he told her, "I'll make it quick."

Nancy shook her head. "God," she breathed. _Ned, please, _please_, if you're here..._

The sirens were just as much a part of the soundtrack of New York life as the angry honk of cab horns and the screech of tires. They didn't really register, until all three of them heard one much more close by.

Then the hand holding the gun jumped a little as a loud voice boomed through a megaphone, and Nancy slumped with relief when the startling didn't make Vincent's finger inadvertently tighten on the trigger. "This is the NYPD," the voice echoed. "We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up."

Vincent's eyes widened, and he pulled his hand back. The muzzle of the gun caught Nancy on the jaw, and she cried out in pain at the impact. "You _bitch_," he snarled. "You said you didn't tell anyone!"

"I didn't!" she protested, her eyes wide as she shook her head. "I swear I didn't!"

Vincent's anger came out as a low growl. "I only need one hostage," he said, looking between the two of them. "I'm sure the cops wouldn't shoot a woman, so it's lights out for you, Humphrey. And _you_," he said, directing his cutting glare back at Nancy, "you bitch, if you try to stab me with your fucking heel again—"

"This is your last warning," the voice boomed again. "_Come out with your hands up._"

Vincent didn't turn to look at the voice, but Nancy could tell he was rattled. Absolutely nothing had gone the way he had planned, and the strain was showing on his face. She remembered again how much she had disliked him on their first meeting, but she had blamed her annoyance on Humphrey's refusal to keep things professional.

But then, she remembered, she hadn't had all the pieces to put together. Not until now.

"Take your shoes off," Vincent said, pointing the gun at Nancy's forehead again. "We'll just solve this right now."

Nancy was gasping in a quiet breath when her wide eyes caught some movement behind Vincent. It was all she could do not to betray it in her expression, and she willed Vincent to keep staring at her, with every fiber of her being. She had a feeling Humphrey's poker face was probably terrible.

Ned emerged from the shadows, moving so silently, and just to cover any sound he made and keep Vincent's attention on her, Nancy began to moan quietly, whimpering in exaggerated fear. "Please, don't," she begged. "Please, I swear if you just leave us here we won't tell anyone..."

"It's too late," Vincent repeated, making a gesture with the gun. "Shoes off, bitch, or do you want another one?"

Nancy's heart was in her throat as she watched Ned slowly bring his hand up, and then, quick as lightning, quick as Vincent had grabbed her earlier, Ned had grabbed Vincent's arm and spun him around. Vincent cried out in surprise and anger, trying to wrench his arm out of Ned's grip, but Ned held fast, keeping the gun pointed away from anyone else. The gun went off with a deafening blast, then another.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!" Nancy heard a desperate voice repeat outside.

Ned managed to get his hand on the muzzle of the gun and he and Vincent scrabbled over it. When Nancy realized how easily Vincent could shoot him if he got the upper hand—

Ned delivered three hard punches to Vincent's face, and Vincent let out a bellow of rage as he twisted away from Ned, redoubling his grip on the gun. Ned grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard, then drew back his left fist for a brutal punch, and while Vincent did manage to duck partially out of the way, Ned's fist still caught him a terrific glancing blow.

For a few heart-pounding seconds, it looked like Vincent was going to keep the upper hand. Then the two of them lashed out at each other, and at the end of it, Vincent let out another howl of pain, and Ned managed to claim the gun.

"On the ground. On the _ground!"_ Ned ordered him, as he scrambled to his feet. His shirt and pants were streaked with dust and traces of grime, and his dark eyes were blazing. "All clear!" he shouted, and they heard the sound of policemen entering the building.

Ned came around to behind Nancy, and she felt his hands at her wrists. He sucked in a sympathetic breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Nancy assured him. "I'll be all right."

Three policemen in riot gear crept cautiously into the small hallway space before the interior office where Nancy and Humphrey had been held. "Down!" one of them bellowed at Vincent, and Ned cautiously put the gun down on the ground, his hands up. He nudged the gun toward the cop who was approaching, his own gun drawn.

"Thanks," the cop said gruffly, and Ned pulled something out of his pocket. He sawed through her bonds, and Nancy let out a sigh of relief, chafing her wrists with her fingers as he knelt at her feet. He cut through the ropes at her ankles with a Swiss army knife and she pulled the gag off, flinging it away from her.

One of the cops went over to assist Humphrey; Ned apparently had no intention of doing so. He didn't even seem to remember that anyone else was in the room. He was just staring at Nancy.

"You're sure you're all right?" he murmured, his dark-eyed gaze locked to hers. "Did he—did he hurt you?"

Very gingerly Ned's fingers lightly brushed her injured cheek, and Nancy couldn't hide her wince. Ned immediately shrank back, apologizing.

"This woman needs medical assistance," he said loudly, glancing around, and when one of the cops nodded Ned seemed at least faintly satisfied. He reached down and gathered Nancy into his arms, lifting her easily.

"Ned, I can walk," she protested. She hated that he was treating her so gently, but being in his arms felt amazing. He was so strong, and his handsome face was serious.

Ned shook his head. "Let me do this, okay?" he told her. "I just saw this asshole hold you at gunpoint, and if I'd just been able to figure it out faster..."

Nancy reached up and patted his cheek. "Look, we can't do anything about it now," she told him softly. "It's okay."

One of the cops directed them to a waiting ambulance, and as soon as they reached it, Ned placed Nancy on her feet again. "I'm gonna need a statement from each of you," the cop said, an apologetic tone in his voice. "Do you think you're up to it, or do you need to wait?"

"Oh, I'm definitely ready," Nancy said, her blue eyes flashing as the emergency medical technician began to inspect her raw wrists. "Whenever you are."


	10. Chapter 10

**This chapter contains a moderately adult scene, but it's nothing terribly explicit.**

* * *

Nancy couldn't help it. She slumped against Ned in the elevator, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her against him. Nancy's feet were aching, too. She glared down at her heels, but couldn't even spare the energy for a disgusted sigh.

Vincent Cantoni had called immediately for a lawyer, and refused to answer any questions until his representation arrived. In the meantime, Nancy and Humphrey had both given their statements to the police officers. Ned had called them as soon as he had seen Cantoni's car outside the warehouse. He had searched for Nancy, but when he realized that Vincent was effectively standing guard over them both, he hadn't wanted to go in without backup.

Nancy had told him she was glad for his caution, even if he was berating himself for not coming after Cantoni earlier. If Cantoni had caught Ned and managed to disable or shoot him before he'd had a chance to call for the police, all three of them would likely be dead by now.

Nancy was familiar, all too familiar, with giving statements. The first responders took one. Then the detectives investigating Kate Gordon's murder were called in. Nancy identified herself by her true name, and although she didn't volunteer her father's involvement, she was sure they would figure it out quickly enough. Humphrey's account meant that kidnapping would be added to the long list of charges the police were preparing for Cantoni.

The cut on Nancy's cheek from Cantoni's pistol whipping had been bandaged, and she had been given some extra-strength pain reliever, although she had told both Ned and the EMTs that she had gone through much worse before. Ned had almost insisted that she go by the hospital, but Nancy had been equally insistent that she was fine. All she needed was a little food and a good night's sleep and she would be fine. He had compromised by insisting that she join him for dinner, though.

Her heels, though, were already on her last nerve. She promised herself that it would be a long time before she impersonated a business professional again. On the way to Ned's place, in his hired car, Nancy had asked if she could make a short stop. Ned had already called Louis and asked for their dinner to be prepared, and Nancy hadn't had the energy to fight him on that, too.

As soon as Ned unlocked his apartment door, Nancy headed to Ned's bedroom again to change, and was startled when he followed her inside. "Sorry," he said, when she turned to him wide-eyed. "I'll change in the other bedroom; I just need to get some clothes."

She wearily stepped out of her pumps as he gathered a t-shirt and shorts. His immaculate clothes were quite possibly ruined, and Nancy shook her head to herself as she sat down at the foot of his bed. He closed the door behind him with a smile, and Nancy very nearly let herself just fall backwards and sprawl out on his bed. It was enormous, and the comforter was pillowy-soft. She just wanted to wrap herself up in it and take a nap.

She always felt such a massive letdown once the cases were over. Her father had actually called her a few hours earlier, saying that he would be on the first flight Monday afternoon, and she had told him that there was no need. The culprit was in custody. and she would be heading home soon enough.

Wearily Nancy unzipped and unfastened her dust and grime-streaked skirt, shimmying her hips to send it sliding to the floor, and stepped out of it. Her blouse went next. The seam under the arm had ripped, most likely when she had been struggling while Vincent had been choking her. Nancy swallowed when she touched her bruised throat. No matter what excuses Vincent tried to make, those bruises were livid proof of his attack on her.

Then Nancy dumped out the contents of the plastic bag she had brought in with her on Ned's bed. She tore the tags off the spaghetti-strap tank top, a miniature New York skyline printed on the front, and the black French terry shorts she had bought at the discount store on the way to Ned's apartment, and quickly put them on. Her bare feet ached with every step she took to Ned's private bathroom, and she tied her hair into a messy ponytail and used a bit of his facewash to help her scrub her ruined makeup off, massaging her fingertips carefully around the bandage. When she rinsed her face and checked her reflection in the mirror, she looked tired, but much cleaner. Hesitantly she touched her jaw, then winced. It was going to bruise like hell, she could already tell.

She folded her torn, soiled blouse and skirt and put them in the bag along with the heels, which she hated enough now to set on fire, and walked out of Ned's room carrying the bag and a pair of flip-flops she had bought. The plush carpet felt amazing against her bare toes, though, so she left the flip-flops near the door and walked over to the pub table.

Ned had asked Louis to prepare something nourishing and simple, and Nancy could smell chicken broth simmering. Ned interrupted himself mid-sentence as Nancy approached; Louis was standing near the kitchen entrance, arms folded, listening to Ned as he narrated what had happened to them that day. "Feeling better?" Ned asked Nancy, standing up. He came over to pull out the other chair for her.

Nancy smiled at him. Ned was always sure to hold doors, open car doors, and pull out chairs for her; she couldn't remember any other boyfriend she had ever had who had bothered.

_He's not my boyfriend_, Nancy reminded herself as she took a seat. _Definitely not my boyfriend._

"My feet definitely are feeling better," she told him. "Or they will, anyway. So are you telling Louis all about our afternoon?"

Ned nodded, then directed a quick glance back at Louis. "And before I forget, that lunch you gave us earlier—oh, you should've seen the smile that was on her face with the first bite."

Nancy chuckled. "It was fantastic," she told Louis, turning to look at him. "Your food is incredible, Louis. I can't possibly compliment it enough."

"My not-so-secret weapon," Ned said with a smile. "You wouldn't even be here right now if he wasn't cooking, would you."

"I don't know," Nancy teased him right back. "I think you promised me that you had talents in other areas."

Louis cleared his throat slightly, and Nancy blushed. "I'll be back in just a moment, if the two of you are ready for dinner?"

Nancy and Ned looked at each other and nodded. "Don't think you're getting away from hearing the rest of the story so easily, though," Ned told Louis.

Louis returned with their glasses and flatware. "It sounds incredibly interesting," he admitted. "White wine, sir?"

Nancy and Ned exchanged another glance, and Nancy was the first to speak. "I'd love some ginger ale," she admitted. "I'm so exhausted right now that I think a glass of wine would have me falling asleep on my plate."

"And we can't have that," Ned said, with mock seriousness. "Ginger ale would be fine."

Louis nodded. "I've prepared chicken noodle soup with country vegetables for the first course, and slow-roasted beef with a horseradish cream and focaccia for the second. Is there anything in particular you would prefer for dessert?"

Nancy shook her head. "Oh, Louis, really, don't go to any trouble..."

Ned touched Nancy's hand. "Louis _lives_ for desserts," he told her, his dark eyes sparkling. "And the rest of it, but his desserts are amazing. Maybe an ice cream?"

"And a raspberry-glazed sponge cake? The raspberries looked particularly good today." Louis glanced between them.

Nancy couldn't help herself. When she licked her lips a little at the thought, Ned chuckled. "Miss Drew has cast her vote, and I'll second it. Thank you so much, Louis."

Louis gave them both a nod and a smile, and returned with the soup for their first course.

Once they were finished with their main courses, Louis put the cake in the oven and the ice cream in the machine, and came out to talk to them while he was waiting. Ned had asked Nancy if she wanted to sit on the couch while they waited, and he wore a grey t-shirt and black shorts; it was the least formal she had ever seen him. She had seated herself a few inches away from him, but when Louis came to sit down on the couch and listen to their account of the end of Nancy's case, Ned slipped his arm around Nancy's shoulders and she ended up leaning against him. He felt so warm and muscular and just safe, and she rested her head against his shoulder, trying as hard as she could not to just fall asleep.

"The worst part, though, was knowing that while the police were assembling outside, that asshole was inside—and he smacked Nancy with the gun." Ned shook his head. "I hate that so much."

Louis's gaze went to Nancy. "Are you all right?" he asked, horrified.

Nancy nodded, pushing a lock of hair off her face. "I'm okay. It wasn't that bad, really. I can't even count the number of times I've been knocked out with chloroform, hit over the head, punched, choked..."

Ned squeezed her shoulder gently. "You say it like you're almost proud of it," he commented.

"It's not that," she said slowly. "Or... well, maybe a little. I feel like people underestimate me, and think that all they have to do is try to scare me and I'll just run away. But it only makes me more determined. Like one punch is enough to make me cry. Did you see that bloody gash on Cantoni's leg? I did that with my heel when he was choking me. That's why he was trying to get me to take my shoes off. And if he had untied me, and tried to use me as a human shield, I would have done everything possible to get that gun away from him and keep him covered until the cops breached."

Nancy had her gaze locked to Ned's at the end of it, and he searched her eyes. A small part of her was waiting for him to just snicker or dismiss what she had said, but she had meant every word. She had disarmed culprits before, and she was sure she could have turned the tables on Cantoni, given the opportunity.

Ned nodded slowly, reaching up and brushing the backs of his fingers gently against her cheek. "I'm just glad it didn't come to that," he said softly. "But I know you could have. And that Humphrey was incredibly lucky to have you looking for him."

Nancy looked down. "I hate that I didn't realize he was gone last night," she said softly.

A timer went off in the kitchen, and Louis rose. "I'll definitely stay up to hear the rest of it, believe me," he told them with a smile, then vanished.

She stayed cuddled up against Ned until Louis returned with their desserts, and although he hadn't eaten dinner with them, when Nancy asked if he wanted to eat too, he shrugged and returned with his own serving. Nancy closed her eyes with rapture on the first bite. He had made chocolate chip ice cream with a caramel swirl, and the combination of all the flavors was perfect.

Once they had finished their story, when the last bite of ice cream was scooped up and the last trace of raspberry sauce savored, Louis shook his head. "You know, I'm actually pretty jealous," he commented. "You tracked down a murderer and got him to confess. I can't even imagine it."

Ned smiled. Nancy could see the marks that would be bruises later from his fight with Vincent. She could remember other guys trying to defend themselves during fights, when they were trying to help her on cases, and failing spectacularly. Those guys were inevitably the ones who swore that detective work was too dangerous, that she needed to leave it to the professionals. Because they weren't equal to the challenge, they couldn't believe she possibly could be.

But Ned hadn't backed down.

"It really was something," Ned was saying. "And I don't think I would have fought nearly so hard if Nancy hadn't been in danger."

Nancy couldn't help the warm flush that started in her chest and spread upward. She remembered again the look of tender concern on his face once Cantoni was no longer a threat to her, when he was asking if she was all right, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. It had made her feel self-conscious, but euphoric, too.

Louis shook his head. "You really are a rare woman," he told Nancy with a smile.

"Oh, but if you put me in front of an ice-cream machine I would be way over my head," she told him with a grin. "You can work miracles in a kitchen, Louis."

He shrugged, but she could tell he was pleased. "It can be exciting," he admitted. Then he seemed to realize the familiarity with which he was treating her, and how tired she and Ned had to be. "I'll wish you both a good night, unless there's anything else?"

Ned shook his head. "Thank you so much for making it on short notice," he told Louis. "It was spectacular."

"It really was," Nancy chimed in, with a smile. "Just what I needed."

Once they were alone, Nancy felt that same thrumming awareness she always did. She sat forward, stretching a little. "I should be getting back," she said softly. "Ned, thank you so much for dinner—and for everything you did today. I wouldn't have found Humphrey nearly as quickly without your help. I really owe you."

When she slowly rose to her feet, Ned rose too. "You look like you're about to fall asleep on your feet," he said softly, and slipped his arm around her waist, clasping her gently. "Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

Nancy felt that damned flush rise in her cheeks again, and she glanced up at him. "Ned," she said softly, starting to shake her head. "I..."

"I can take the couch," he told her. "I'd just feel better if you were here tonight."

She was too exhausted to think straight, and the prospect of sleeping in his large, luxurious bed was incredibly tempting. She didn't want to say goodnight just yet, either. "I... Okay," she said reluctantly. "But I don't want to kick you out of your bed. I think it's big enough for the both of us. To _sleep_," she added.

Ned was smiling, but he nodded in agreement. "Deal," he told her.

"You don't happen to have a spare toothbrush, do you?"

After they had both brushed their teeth and washed their faces, Ned turned the lights in his bedroom off. Nancy stood on the other side of the bed, debating for a moment, and she bit her lip as she reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. She slipped it off without taking her tank top off, then dropped it beside the bed before she slipped between the sheets.

"You okay?" Ned murmured. "I have more blankets."

"I'm fine," she assured him. His bed was so large that it sounded like he was so far away from her. That, or she was just so exhausted. The room felt like it was spinning gently around her, like she was falling.

"Ned?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm so glad you weren't involved," she said softly. "That you had nothing to do with it."

He made a soft, almost amused humming sound. "Me too," he whispered.

Nancy bundled a little deeper under the covers, drawing in the scent she had come to associate with him. She wanted to stay awake, wanted to savor the novelty of being alone in his bed with him, but all too soon, a wave of exhaustion swept her away.

She woke to a split second of disorientation, feeling sluggish and even more exhausted than she had. She heard the sound of fabric moving on the other side of the bed. Ned was pulling the covers over himself. She heard the faint gurgling of water in the bathroom pipes.

She fought it for a moment, but the more she tried to ignore it, the more desperately she felt the need to go. She let out a quiet sigh and slid out of his bed, finding her way very gingerly in the dark and mostly by unsure memory, until she found the bathroom door. The tile was cool under her bare feet.

As she slipped back into his bed a few minutes later, she found herself wondering if he was still awake. She had been trying very hard to forget what she had seen in his room during her previous visit, what was almost certainly still in the drawer on his side of the bed, but remembering that made her realize that Bess would absolutely kill her if Nancy told her she had spent a chaste night in Ned's bed.

But, she told herself as she nestled into the pillow again, he would be leaving on his business trip soon, and she would be returning home in the next day or two. Maybe Bess would jump at the chance to have a one-night stand, but what Nancy told her was still true. She didn't want to settle for that. Not even with someone as breathtakingly handsome as Ned Nickerson.

"Nan?"

Nancy hated the familiarity of the nickname on Humphrey's lips; he almost seemed to treat it as his right to address her that way. When Ned said it, though, Nancy found that she loved the intimacy of his voice in the dark, saying her name the way he did.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"It's... it's okay," she murmured, sweeping her loose hair off her cheek. "What is it?"

Ned swallowed. "I've had some scary moments in my life," he said quietly, "but nothing has scared me quite so much as seeing Cantoni holding that gun on you."

Nancy blinked in his direction in the darkness. His bedroom was pitch black, thanks to the heavy curtains over the windows, and she could only see the abstract swirl of seething colors, not the faint shape of him outlined in darker shadow. "I'm sorry," she told him.

He made a soft sound. "I'm just so glad you're safe right now."

"Mmm." She nestled a little deeper under the soft comforter. "I always hate the time right after a case is over," she admitted quietly.

"You do?"

"Yeah. They're not always like this one, and sometimes it's just a matter of turning over the responsible party's name to the police..." She chuckled. "When she didn't know me as well, Bess—she's one of my best friends—used to think I was just an adrenaline junkie. Kind of like her cousin George, who is one of my other best friends."

"George?"

"Down, boy," Nancy said with a chuckle. "George is a woman. A tomboy who loves sports and hates shopping, but a woman."

"Oh," Ned said, and Nancy had to laugh at the relief in his voice.

"Anyway. It's not that I like being in danger. The real thrill of it is solving the case, when all the pieces come together and I figure out the solution. I've been involved in cases where I was finding a long-lost treasure or some other misplaced item of sentimental importance, and I feel that same thrill, even if no one's holding a gun to my head and demanding I dig those last few inches to find the buried chest, or whatever it is. I... I kind of live for it, really. And then, when the case is over..." She shrugged. "I just can't wait for a new one to come along."

"So you'll just be bored and frustrated until that happens."

"I..." Nancy tried to hedge. "It's not quite like that... I mean, I have school, and I love spending time with my friends and family..."

Ned chuckled. "It's okay," he told her. "I think I understand. When I first figured out that I had a knack for seeing patterns and figuring out how to make good investments, it wasn't like an addiction, but I did feel a thrill whenever I took a little gamble and it paid off. When I'm able to look at the market, at demand and popularity and a hundred other factors, and almost see exactly how the trend is going to go—it's pretty exhilarating. Not really an addiction, but my life would be a lot less interesting without it."

"It is like that," she agreed. "Like solving a puzzle, putting everything I've learned to good use. It's like a total workout. I just feel kind of lazy and sluggish when I haven't had one for a while. Sometimes I have to resort to logic puzzles and word games and crossword puzzles just to keep my mind in shape."

Ned chuckled. "So you always need to have something going on," he said. "I can understand that."

She smiled, her heart lifting a little. "Yeah," she said softly. "A lot of the people I've known... they just _can't_ understand that."

"It can be hard, for other people to get," he agreed. "It's not about the money for me; it never has been. And it's not about the danger for you."

"Yeah," she said softly. She didn't know if it was her imagination, that his voice sounded closer than it had, but she could hear him, could hear the bed creaking very faintly as he shifted his weight.

"There's just one thing," he said softly. "I don't gamble with what I can't afford to lose, and when I thought, earlier today, that there was a chance I might lose you... well, that... that was unbearable."

Nancy swallowed. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

She could almost imagine that she felt the heat of his skin, and then he moved under the covers. She was on her side facing him, and tentatively he touched her hip. Her tank top had ridden up, leaving a strip of skin bare at her navel, and when Ned's thumb brushed her flesh, she shuddered. "Don't be sorry," he murmured. "Nancy..."

Nancy was finding it hard to stay calm. His hand was lingering on her hip, his thumb gently stroking her skin still, and every time he touched her, she felt a bolt of tingling awareness pass over her. She willed herself to just relax, but God, she wanted to hold him; she wanted to feel his arms around her.

It was too soon. It was all too soon. She hadn't known him long enough to feel this way about him, not by any stretch of the imagination, and yet a part of her almost felt like she had known him for a long time. She felt comfortable with him, _safe_ with him, more than she had with any other man she had ever met.

But her heart felt like it was ready to beat out of her chest, at the thrill of being so close to him.

She took a breath and reached for him, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as she melted against him. He had taken his shirt off, and she could feel the warmth of his bare skin against her as she nuzzled against him, her arm tight around him.

It was impossible, so impossible. She had watched Bess fall in love with so many guys, and had begun to wonder if she was even capable of that kind of intensity of emotion, if she would ever trust or respect a man enough to love him, if she would ever be able to trust anyone else enough to let them in. She had tried so many times, and over time it had become easier to accept that she was strong enough to be by herself, that she didn't _need_ anyone else to complete her or make her whole.

And she didn't. She knew that now. She was happy with herself; she was happy with who she was.

But with a man like Ned, someone who could respect and understand her... if he felt the same way...

Nancy closed her eyes, a shudder going down her spine as she tipped her head up and felt his breath against her cheek.

She cupped his cheek, and let out a soft moan when his lips barely brushed hers, softly in the dark. She rolled onto her back without thought and he rolled with her, his body tight to hers, and she wrapped her arms around him, her hand sliding up to run through his hair as he kissed her hard, his tongue teasing hers.

Very softly she could hear that panicked voice inside her, warning her that she was making a mistake, but God, she never wanted to let him go, she never wanted him to stop. His knee slipped between her legs and she parted them, and Ned groaned as he tilted his head and kissed her again, his hips snug against hers.

_God, oh God, oh _God...

He kept kissing her, and she returned it just as fiercely, until her head was spinning, and everywhere his bare flesh touched hers, she felt a shock of arousal so strong it was almost painful. He brought his hand down and cupped her waist, and she flushed as his tongue dipped into her mouth again, his palm inching up her side.

And his hips rocked once against hers.

She broke the kiss with a faint whimper, drawing in a trembling breath, and Ned pushed her tank top up until it was gathered under her breasts. She could feel him—

Bess, Bess had told her about this, what it meant. He wanted her.

He slipped his palm under her shirt and caressed her, and she shuddered at how good it felt, letting out a soft cry. She had never, never been like this with anyone else; there had been limited fumblings over clothes, passionate embraces, but nothing like this. No man had ever touched her this way, and she was shocked at how much she wanted it, was almost afraid of the desire it woke in her. "Ned," she whispered, begging. "Oh, Ned—"

His hips moved, deliberately slowly, against hers again, and Nancy felt so intensely aware of him. "Mmm," he moaned, tipping his head down to hers again, and the kiss he gave her was so incredibly wicked as he caressed her again. She moaned against his kiss, drawing her knees up, and she shuddered again as he gently stroked her.

"Ned," she whimpered, when they broke the kiss. "I—we can't—"

"I have condoms," he told her, and his voice was a little breathless. "It's okay—"

She fought the ludicrous impulse to respond immediately with _I know._ She shook her head, both grateful and disappointed that she couldn't see his face. "I need to slow down," she whispered, just as breathless as he was.

"Oh," he murmured, slipping his hand out from under her shirt, and they were both panting when he rolled onto his side, off her. "I'm sorry."

"Mmm. No, I'm sorry," Nancy said, closing her eyes, relaxing as she brushed her hair out of her face.

Ned let out his breath in a long sigh. "Shit," he whispered. "Shit. I'm sorry. You told me you just wanted to sleep... I just..."

Nancy tugged her shirt back down. Her shorts had bunched up between her legs, and she could still feel a faint pulse of awareness there, especially when she turned to face him again. "It's okay," she told him. "It was just a little too fast."

"So if we take it slower...?"

She shuddered as she imagined what it would mean to take him up on his offer. While her father had told her what sex was, while Bess's breathless recital of _Cosmo_ articles and tips about what to do when she found herself in bed with a guy were all rattling around in her head, the actual act of lovemaking and what it would entail still felt a little mysterious to her, and until tonight, until she had met Ned, she wouldn't have said she was overly curious to solve it. Now, though...

Nancy swallowed hard. She knew she didn't want a one-night stand. That didn't mean it wasn't tempting.

"Um... maybe if we just stick to making out," she told him.

Ned let out a low, quiet chuckle in the dark. "You would test the patience of a saint," he murmured. "Has anyone ever told you that, Miss Drew?"

Even so, he reached for her and drew her into his arms again, and she had to smile. "They have," she confirmed. "Mr. Nickerson. I guess I'll just count myself lucky to have found one."

She could feel him smiling against her lips as he kissed her again.

* * *

Nancy woke the next morning and stretched, a smile on her face. The curtains over one window were parted enough to let the morning sunlight in, but she closed her eyes against it, reaching high over her head, wiggling her toes. Her throat and jaw still ached a little, and her feet still felt a little sore, but she wasn't complaining.

Ned's side of the bed was empty, the covers pulled up to his pillow. She could smell something delicious and sweet in the air.

When she sat up, sweeping her hair out of her face, she couldn't help smiling again at the memory of the night before. They had made out, their arms wrapped around each other, until they had begun to drift off. Then she had cuddled against his chest and fallen asleep that way, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

When she glanced over at his pillow again, she saw a note there and picked it up.

_You looked so peaceful I could hardly bear to wake you, even though I was dying to steal one last kiss. I have an early flight, so I'll be gone when you read this, but please call me if you need me. I'll be back tomorrow, and I can't wait to see you then._

_-N_

Nancy looked down, then swept up her bra and put it back on.

Louis was sitting at the pub table, engrossed in something on his tablet computer, but he looked up when Nancy slowly opened the bedroom door. "Good morning," he said with a smile. "I have cinnamon rolls with a buttermilk cream cheese glaze ready. Coffee, or orange juice?"

"Mmm. Coffee," Nancy requested, shaking her head. "And, thank you. Are they left over from Mr. Nickerson's breakfast?"

"Oh, no," Louis told her, before he went to the kitchen to retrieve her breakfast. "He requested them for you."

Nancy blushed a little, ducking her head as she smiled. He really was so incredibly thoughtful, she thought again.

Louis made absolutely no comment about her having spent the night in his employer's bed, and Nancy caught herself wondering if this was a usual occurrence for him, if he often found himself making breakfast for Ned's girlfriends or partners. But Louis seemed genuinely interested when he asked her a few questions about the case, and he expressed his admiration yet again when she told him more about what had happened.

By midmorning, she was back at her hotel, and wondering what to do. While she had been with Ned the night before, she'd had no doubt. She needed to stay with him. She needed to be with him.

But she wasn't going to be in New York forever, and she wondered if it might be easier for them both if she left before he returned from his trip.

After a quick shower, Nancy changed into a casual t-shirt and jeans and sent Humphrey a text message from her charging cell phone. He answered her a few minutes later, and she scrunched her drying hair a few times in her fists to encourage tighter waves before she put on her new flip-flops and crossed the hall.

The bruise she had seen on Humphrey's temple the day before looked a little worse, but at least that stricken look had faded. "Humphrey, I just wanted to apologize again," she told him. "I really am sorry you went through that."

Humphrey shrugged. "Hey, I helped catch the guy, though? And now I have a really awesome story to tell chicks."

Nancy shook her head, chuckling. "I guess so."

"Have you already booked your flight? I can see if there's a seat available on mine, it's leaving this afternoon...?"

Nancy shook her head. "I think I'm gonna call my aunt and see if she wants to have dinner," she said. "I might wait until later on tonight or tomorrow to leave."

"Whew. You have nerves of steel, I'll give you that. Want to have lunch before I go?"

Nancy found to some amusement that Humphrey was still just as annoying as he had ever been, but knowing that the case was over and she wouldn't be around him on a regular basis anymore did wonders for her irritation level. She bid him a cheerful goodbye in front of the hotel as his cab pulled away, then went back to her own room.

She opened the closet door and saw the dress Ned had given her still hanging inside, just as she had left it, and gazed at it, a thoughtful expression on her face.

She called her father and gave him the detailed rundown of the case she had promised the day before, and told him that most likely she would be catching a flight Tuesday morning or afternoon. Then she called her Aunt Eloise, who said she would be delighted to have an early dinner with her favorite niece.

Nancy didn't call Bess, though. She didn't trust herself to. She wanted to make her own decision about what to do, without Bess's influence. And during her dinner with her aunt, as she tried to get to sleep that night, as she ate breakfast on Tuesday morning, she puzzled over it, trying to work it out.

Ned texted her just after she had finished breakfast, asking if she wanted to meet for lunch or dinner, and whether she wanted another one of Louis's outstanding creations or something a little more conventional. She smiled when she read the message, and they agreed to meet at one o'clock at his penthouse for a late lunch.

Nancy smiled when she gave her name to the doorman and he showed her to the elevator, slotting his card in to send her to the penthouse, but as soon as she boarded the elevator, her smile dropped. She still wasn't sure what to do, and she hated that feeling. She carried a bag holding his borrowed t-shirt and shorts, which she had had washed. She had almost wanted to keep them, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to do it.

Over their lunch of lobster rolls with celery root slaw and sweet potato chips, followed by a light, utterly delicious lemon sorbet, Nancy asked about Ned's business trip and listened with unfeigned interest as he told her about it. He had been meeting with some of the people involved in the clean energy project, going over recent findings with them, and he was delighted by the progress they had made.

When the meal was over, Nancy stood and just gazed at him. "Can I give you a hug?" she asked softly.

"Of course you can," he told her with a smile, rising, and she shivered at the sensation of pure delighted warmth that rose in her when he held her. They lingered in the embrace for a long moment, feeling each other breathe, and she savored the contentment she felt in it.

Then he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. "I missed you," he murmured, his voice almost gruff.

"Mmm. I missed you too," she replied, pulling back a little so she could gaze up into his eyes. "I'm going to miss you so much."

Ned tilted his head, his brow furrowing a little.

"You're an amazing person," she said. "And I'm so glad I met you. You helped me so much, and I'm incredibly grateful."

The warm smile that had been on Ned's face slowly faded, until it was almost gone. His dark eyes looked almost pleading. "Nan... Nancy, what are you saying?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm leaving today."

Ned's gaze dropped to the floor, and he ran his fingers through his hair. Then he brought his head back up and met her eyes again. "Will I see you again?"

His voice was quiet, and Nancy had been willing herself not to cry. She frowned deeply as she felt the first few tears begin to prick in her eyes. "Ned, we're too different," she said, telling herself to believe it even as she spoke the words to him. "Your life is here, and my life is in Chicago, in River Heights. Your work is here, and in August I'll be going back to school again. If things were different..."

Ned frowned, too. "I understand that the circumstances aren't perfect," he began. "But I also know, with total certainty, that the way I feel about you, that the way I've felt about you practically since the moment I met you—that doesn't happen every day. Believe me, I've been looking for it. And I've found it with you. I'm not going to let a few small details stand in my way, not if you—not if you feel this way too."

Nancy reached up and impatiently dashed the tears from her lower lashes before they could streak down her face. "How?" she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "How do you feel about me?"

Ned let out a long sigh, and for the second time she saw that look of vulnerability on his face, just as she had when he had asked if she was all right in the warehouse. "Like being with you could be the single most important relationship in my life," he said, his voice low. "Like I could never have enough time with you, I could never be with you long enough. I love everything about you. And it's..." He shook his head, releasing a low, mirthless chuckle. "You, this... the way I feel about you, I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. I... I think I'm falling for you, Nancy."

Nancy blinked at him, her eyes wide and swimming, sending another pair of tears down her cheeks.

"And even if you don't feel this way, even if you never do, I don't think I ever will stop. And it scares the hell out of me."

Nancy wiped her eyes again, taking a trembling breath. "But, Ned..."

He shook his head, reaching for her hand. "Just be honest with me," he said, his dark eyes searching hers. "If you don't feel that way, if that's why you—were reluctant, that night..."

Nancy shook her head. "Oh, Ned, no, no, that wasn't it at all," she reassured him. "That wasn't why I wanted to slow down. I—I never want to be away from _you_, either. I never want to stop talking to you. I feel like I could spend the rest of my life talking to you and we would never find an end."

Ned squeezed her hand, taking a step closer to her. "Then, if we feel the same way..."

She frowned again, another pair of tears slipping down her cheeks. "But it can't work," she told him, her voice incredibly sad. "Not now. Maybe in a few years, when I'm out of school..."

Ned shook his head. "I don't want to wait that long to be with you."

"And my life right now—as much as I'd love to, I can't just fly out here every weekend to be with you. I can't."

He brought his hand up and stroked her cheek. "But you want us to be together," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. "Right?"

Nancy closed her eyes, letting out her breath in a shivering sigh. She did. But she had tried so hard to see how it could possibly work—and it couldn't.

But her heart didn't care.

"Yes," she whispered, and when Ned kissed her she slipped her arms around his neck, holding him tight as she returned it. He picked her up, and when he sat down with her on the couch she tilted her head the other way, tasting the salt of her tears as she kissed him again.

They parted and Ned reached up to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Well, Miss Drew," he said softly, "I am not used to taking no for an answer. And I won't take it for one now. We will figure this out."

She searched his eyes, and the confidence and utter certainty she saw there made her smile. "So you think you're falling in love with me, too?"

He brushed a soft kiss against her lips. "I have spent," he whispered, "the last six days, trying not to," punctuating each phrase with another soft kiss. "I have gone through every argument and every negative, and I can't escape it. I want you in my life. And now that I've seen you in it, I think I need you there; I think it will always feel a little more hollow without you."

She kissed him one last time, then moved to rest her head on his shoulder. "I know what you mean," she whispered.

They stayed together until it was time for her to leave for her flight, and Ned called for his car to take them both to the airport. On the way she handed him the bag and thanked him for loaning her his clothes, but he shook his head.

"Keep them," he told her. "I like to imagine you in them."

She shook her head at him, but stuffed them into her carry-on bag anyway.

He stayed with her at the check-in line, but he wasn't allowed to accompany her through security. Their steps slowed as they approached the checkpoint he couldn't pass.

He squeezed her hand, and she turned, tipping her head to look up at him. He smiled at her, then reached down and picked her up, holding her so their faces were level. A shiver went down her spine as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"I love you, okay?" he whispered, and Nancy felt her eyes prick with tears again. "Just... wait for me. I'll figure this out, or you will. You are pretty damn smart."

"And so are you," she told him with a smile. "I... I love you, too. And I have never, never in my life, felt about anyone else the way I feel about you."

His smile turned into a grin. "Good."

"Good?"

He kissed her. "Because this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, Nancy," he said softly. "And if I've learned one thing in my life, it's that I can't pass those up, that I will always regret it."

She kissed him back. "Then I'll wait," she whispered against his lips. "Because as impatient as I am... you're worth it."


	11. Chapter 11

**This chapter contains adult topics, but nothing explicit.**

* * *

"And he's texted me every morning," Nancy finished, reaching for her nearly-empty water bottle. "Well, except a few days ago when he was in Paris, and then he sent me an email because he was awake way before I was."

Nancy, Bess, and George were in Florida visiting their old friend Kim Larsen, but it seemed that half the United States was in Florida with them, soaking up the July rays on all the most popular beaches. After searching in vain for a spot to park their rental car at Daytona, and finding that many other visitors had just given up the search and parked illegally wherever they could find space, George had whipped out her cell phone and searched for a good runner's beach. While the spot they had found was out of the way, and a good twenty minute drive from the rest of civilization, at least they weren't surrounded by mobs of screaming sand-crusted toddlers, anorexic orange women in barely-there bikinis, and sunburned middle-aged men with pronounced beer bellies.

Bess, who had already built a perfect base tan, was staring at Nancy with her mouth agape, and had been for the past several minutes. While Bess had pouted that she didn't have a good audience for her metallic green and pink bikini and her new satiny lip gloss, reassurance that the three of them would hit a nightclub later with Kim, once their friend was off work, had served to calm her down. Then Nancy had finally started to tell both her best friends the full story about what had happened in New York, starting at the beginning for George's benefit, and soon they had both been totally enrapt.

George was the first to speak. "And you're _sure_ this guy wasn't involved in the murder you were investigating?"

Bess lightly smacked her cousin on the arm. George wore a sleek emerald-green tank suit that emphasized her well-toned arms and legs, and her normally dark hair had even lightened a little, despite her refusal to passively sunbathe the way her cousin always did. She was always up for organizing a volleyball match with Nancy, Kim, and whoever was passing by—and Bess always insisted that they try for the hottest guy in sight.

"Of course he wasn't!" Bess declared. "A man does not buy a woman Oscar de la Renta _couture_ like that. Just to buy her off."

"Sounds like a perfect reason to me," George said cheerfully, pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes. "I'm sure it would have totally bought _you_ completely off, Bess."

"Mmm," Bess murmured, instead of objecting the way Nancy had thought she would, and Nancy had to laugh. "Well, if a guy were willing to spend that kind of money on me... I'd probably be a _lot_ more forgiving. Not of _murder_, though. You cynic."

George reached for her own bottle of sports drink, wrinkling her nose at Bess.

"He wasn't involved," Nancy said, stretching. "The police broke down Cantoni's story. He _did_ have a partner, but it was a guy who wasn't a member of the Bennett Group, so Ned was out of it."

Bess crossed her arms and glared at her cousin. "See? Why can't you be happy that Nancy has found, like, the most _perfect_ man in existence? Because I am. I'm so happy that I could just strangle you, Nan." Bess sighed. "Are you _totally_ sure he doesn't have, like, some illegitimate brother you could introduce me to?"

Nancy laughed, adjusting the strapless top of her black and white polka-dot bikini. "Sorry, Bess. No such luck."

"But what are you going to do now?" George asked pragmatically. "So you've said that you want to have a relationship, but he lives in a different time zone."

Bess shook the now-empty can of diet soda she had been sipping for the entirety of Nancy's story, then sighed and reached into the cooler for a new one. Drops of freezing-cold water clung to the silver sides of the can, and Bess made sure to shake them in her cousin's direction before she pulled the tab. George just glared at her.

"Don't think I won't dunk you in the ocean, Marvin."

"You wouldn't. I'll get caught in a riptide and die and haunt you mercilessly by giving you makeovers in your sleep," Bess said placidly. "You know I can't swim that well."

"The riptides aren't _that_ close to the shore—"

"Shh," Bess said to George. "Anyway, what _are_ you going to do? I mean, I guess you could transfer schools..."

But the expression on Bess's face was sad, and Nancy had felt the same way when she had thought about it. "I love going to UC with you guys and being near Hannah and Dad, and in New York... I mean, I would know Ned, but he won't be there all the time, and Aunt Eloise and Seth... but I just can't imagine transferring. I only have two years left, after all, and we did just meet."

George nodded vigorously. "You _did_ just meet. And for all you know he has a string of alimony-hungry ex-wives—"

"He doesn't," Bess put in absently, and when George stared at her, Bess raised her hand in defense. "What? Nancy's great at solving crimes, you're great at, like, kayaking through oceans and riding bikes to the top of mountains—"

"Bess," George groaned, exasperated. "Nothing you just said made any sense—"

"_But,_" Bess said loudly, over George's interruption. "This is _my_ area of expertise. Celebrities and their lives."

"But he's not a celebrity. Is he?"

Bess shook her head. "He's an _incredibly_ eligible bachelor. In fact, they've approached him to be _on The Bachelor._ A few times. He turned them down," she added, unnecessarily.

Nancy couldn't stop herself. "So what else have you learned about him, Bess?"

Bess raised a hand and began to tick off her fingers as George groaned and pulled her spare towel over her face. "Now you've done it," came George's muffled voice. "Wake me up when she's done."

"Shut up," Bess said without rancor. "Number one, his net worth is—well, I think you already know that, Nan. But for those of you who _aren't listening,_" she said loudly, and recited it for George, down to two decimal points. "Second, he's involved in all these really neat projects. Like the clean energy one you were telling us about, Nan."

Nancy nodded. During the few phone conversations they had managed to coordinate, Nancy had told him about the case she had become involved with during her Florida vacation, involving a series of thefts at a senior living center, and Ned had told her about his meetings with inventors on the clean energy project.

"Third, in addition to his family home in Vermont and that sweet penthouse in New York, he has an apartment in L.A. and this _to die for_ chateau in France." Bess paused. "Shit, I was going to map it and see how close it was to Johnny Depp's place..."

George groaned. "I changed my mind. Please murder me."

Bess stuck her tongue out in George's direction, which did no good, since her cousin's face was still covered. "Fourth, he tends to date intelligent, mature women, not the usual shallow idiot types. I mean, a few times his name was linked to that—that one pop singer, the one who... God, how would you guys know her."

"If she wasn't involved in a murder investigation, Nancy won't," George pointed out, her voice still muffled. "And I couldn't give less of a fuck."

Bess shook her head. "_Anyway_. It was just a rumor that he was with her anyway, and never substantiated. He's pretty much a serial monogamist," she told Nancy primly. "Which is great. He's friends with a few of the Nets players; that's his favorite team."

George actually peeked from beneath her towel. "Is he a Yankees fan?" she asked, her voice flat with disdain.

"I can find out," Bess said cheerfully.

Nancy shook her head. It didn't matter what a few disturbingly detailed web searches could tell her; they didn't say anything about who he truly was. She hadn't seen him since their goodbye at the airport, and while the phone calls, texts, and emails were nice, they weren't the same thing as feeling his arms around her.

She knew she was being foolish, but ever since he had told her that he felt the same way about her, she hadn't been able to stop herself. She daydreamed about seeing him again all the time, and her heart beat insanely hard when she saw his name pop up on her phone or in her emails.

Bess was laughing when Nancy tuned back into the conversation. "Thinking about him?"

"Maybe," Nancy said, adjusting her sunglasses to cover for the flush in her cheeks. "Or maybe about taking a swim. George, you game?"

George sat up immediately. "Thank God. If I hear another useless statistic..."

Bess wrinkled her nose at them both. "You might mock it now, but one day you'll need me," she told her cousin. "And then you won't be laughing."

George shook her head, tossing her short, dark hair. "Come out for a swim, Bess. Work off some of those chips."

"They're _baked_," Bess pointed out, "specifically so I _don't_ have to work them off."

Nancy chuckled. "Well, if you change your mind, come on out," she told her friend. "We'll make sure to keep you away from the riptide."

"And the sharks, and the jellyfish, and the speedboats..."

Bess gave a dramatic shudder. "I'll be safe right here, thank you."

After a long, exhausting swim, the girls packed up and headed back to town to shower and get ready for their night out. Even so, Nancy was still feeling a little lonely. Ned had had a lot of girlfriends; she knew that. But, she was equally sure, they had all been willing to drop anything that would interfere with seeing him. They would have been fools not to. He was an amazing catch.

But Nancy didn't want to leave her friends and family behind, not yet, even though he had already told her he didn't want to wait the two years until she was graduated.

Nancy sighed, rinsing her hair, and then looked down at her naked body. That was another thing. She was equally sure that the women he had dated had all been ready and willing to go to bed with him... and she hadn't been, not yet.

The next morning, all four of them were recovering from their late night by sleeping in a bit. It was Bess and George's turn to split Kim's double-sized guest bed, and so Nancy was on the couch, her arm slung over her eyes to keep the weak sunlight out. She heard Kim drag herself to the kitchen and smelled coffee brewing, and was just considering possibly getting up when her cell phone started to ring.

"Shit," Nancy hissed, rolling off the couch and onto the floor, scrabbling for the small dressy purse she had carried the night before. She answered the call on the third ring, and her heart just had enough time to leap up into her throat when she saw the name on the screen.

"Good morning, handsome."

"Good morning, gorgeous," Ned answered her, his voice low and so warm that it sent a tingle down her spine. "I hope I didn't wake you up."

"Not really. I was just thinking about getting out of bed. Or couch, as it were," she said with a chuckle.

"In your sweet little nightie? Where you collapsed last night after a particularly sexy pillow fight?"

"No such luck," she teased him back. "I'm actually, um, wearing your shirt and not much else."

She had grown accustomed to wearing his shirt to sleep in, and Bess and George had teased her about it a few times, but wearing it made her feel a little closer to him.

Ned let out an appreciative groan. "Even better. I _really_ need to find some reason to take a business trip to Florida in the next few days..."

Nancy giggled, but she couldn't help feeling a rush of happiness at the prospect. "If you must," she said lightly. "I do have _all_ these tiny little bikinis with me, and no one to appreciate them..."

"Oh, I am _more_ than sure that any straight man who saw you in them would be more than appreciative," he told her. "And, speaking of maybe getting you to model a few for me... when did you say you were going to be back in Illinois?"

Nancy couldn't stop grinning. "Are you thinking about maybe coming for a visit?" she asked, and she couldn't dampen the happiness in her voice.

"I'm working things out, but I'm pretty sure I can."

"Well, I have to get back by Thursday," she told him. "Dad's the keynote speaker at this fundraising thing in Chicago that night, and he asked me to come along."

"As his date?"

"His guest," Nancy said. "He's been seeing Adriana pretty regularly, and I think she's going as his date, but I wanted to be there to support him. I haven't been able to spend nearly as much time as I wanted with him this summer. But that means maybe we could have a long weekend together, maybe see each other Friday?" she said hopefully.

"That sounds great. And I bet you'll look breathtaking Thursday night, too."

Before leaving for her trip, Nancy had already shopped for and decided on the gown she would wear to the fundraiser. For a moment or two she had considered wearing the fantastic gold gown Ned had given her, but she felt strange wearing it when she wouldn't be seeing him. Besides, she still hadn't told her father about Ned, and while she doubted her father would recognize the gown and realize how expensive it was, someone else at the fundraiser might do so and comment on it, and she just didn't want to have that conversation yet. "Maybe moderately," she teased him.

"Take pictures," he told her. "And I am going to do everything in my power to see you this weekend. I miss you, beautiful."

"I miss you too," Nancy murmured, keeping her voice low as she heard one of the interior doors open. George was running her fingers through her dark hair as she shuffled out of the guest bedroom. "I'll be thinking about you."

Ned chuckled. "You know I'm always thinking about you."

On Wednesday, Nancy, Bess, and George bid Kim a warm goodbye and headed back to Illinois. Ned had told her that he would be able to make it and he wanted to see her, and her promise of a possible long weekend together was tantalizing to them both. Nancy knew she had two choices: to be honest with her father about where she would be, or to lie to him and say she would be with her friends, away somewhere.

She hated lying to her father, though. She had never made a habit of it, and he was always very understanding. Even so, she had never spent the weekend, much less the night, really, with any of the guys she had dated, and she didn't know how he would react to that prospect.

_I'm twenty,_ she reminded herself. _I'm an adult, and I want to spend the weekend with my boyfriend._

That thought sent a thrill up Nancy's spine, and while it was mostly pleased, it was also a little nervous. She had told Bess and George about the night they had spent together in his bed, and that things had gotten more intense than she had been expecting, but she still didn't feel ready to take that step with him. And she didn't know if telling Ned that she wanted to spend three days with him would mean he would expect it. They still hadn't talked about her lack of experience, and any time he made some comment about how sexy she was or how much he wanted to see a lot more of her, she had just gone along with it, teasing him right back.

When Nancy came down to dinner that night, her golden hair tumbling loose down her tanned shoulders, she greeted her father with a grin and a hug. "Hi Dad."

"You look significantly more tan than the last time I saw you," he replied with a smile. "How was Florida?"

"Exciting," she told them, and over dinner with him and Hannah, she filled them in on her case. Bess had gone undercover at the retirement home as an assistant in the salon, and when the culprit had discovered she was investigating, he had managed to grab her. George and Nancy had rescued her when she had barely been gone an hour, and the kidnapper had quickly flipped on his accomplice. The residents had all been delighted that the thieves had been caught.

"What time are we leaving for Chicago tomorrow?" Nancy asked, once she had helped Hannah clear the dessert dishes.

Carson, who was just checking his cell phone, looked up at her with a smile. "Well, Ri mentioned maybe going out for dinner first, but you're welcome to come..."

Nancy shook her head. "No, that's okay," she told him. "I know you two don't get to spend much time together, and I can just drive separately and meet you there."

Carson shook his head. "I don't get to spend much time with _you_, either," he pointed out. "And I'd love to have dinner with both of you, unless you really don't want to."

Nancy considered. Adriana was a really nice person, and she was happy that Adriana made her father happy. She just didn't want to feel like a third wheel around them, and she was a little worried that the tiny spark of resentment she felt toward Adriana might just grow if she were in that situation. Nancy was happy for her father, she truly was, and soon she wouldn't just be mostly moved out of her father's house.

But a small, mean part of her she was trying hard to ignore didn't want her father to marry again, and she could already see signs that he was considering it.

She gave him a smile, though. "I suppose I could," she said, keeping her voice light. "For you. Especially if you promise that we'll go somewhere French."

Carson laughed. "Sounds great."

Nancy paused. "Dad... can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, sweetheart."

She went with him into his study, and closed the door behind her before taking a seat in the large, overstuffed chair in front of his desk. When her father had been away, when she was little, she had curled up there so many times with a book, inhaling the musty scent of old law books and his papers and well-worn leather, and felt just a little closer to him.

She clasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. "While I was in New York, a few weeks ago, working on the case for you..."

"Yes, I remember," Carson said, his tone light, but his gaze was intent on her.

"I... met someone," she said. "And he told me he'll be coming to Chicago on Friday for the weekend, and he wants to see me. And we might, um... decide to spend a lot of time together..."

"In his hotel room?" Carson said, and his voice sounded serious.

Nancy felt the blush she had been fighting rise fully in her cheeks. "Maybe," she said, and cleared her throat. "I... not... I just miss him a lot and I want to see him, and we're not—sleeping together, it's not like that."

Carson relaxed fractionally, letting out a soft sigh. "But you met him on a case," he repeated. "Nancy, you've met a lot of men while you were working on your cases, and—I know many of them have been decent, and you've cared a lot about them, but those relationships have never lasted very long. I don't want to see you get hurt."

And, Nancy remembered, many of those flirtations had been so brief they could hardly be called relationships at all. "He's different," she said softly. "And I know how incredibly stupid that must sound, but I knew from the moment I met him that he was different, that this was different." She clasped her fingers tighter. "I have never felt about any of those other men the way I feel about this one."

Carson's cell phone was on the desk in front of him, and Nancy saw the screen light up, but he didn't even glance at it. "So you've been in contact with him since you came back."

Nancy nodded. "He and I talk to each other practically every day, or contact each other, at least."

"But he lives in New York."

She nodded again. "He does," she murmured.

Carson frowned. "I suppose that since you're fully in your majority, that you aren't exactly asking my permission," he commented.

"I wanted to be honest with you," she said. "Dad... I care about him a lot, and I'm not..." She sighed. "I'm not just walking into this with my eyes closed, is I guess what I'm trying to say."

"Long-distance relationships are hard, Nancy," he said quietly. "And I wouldn't wish them on anyone. So will I meet this young man soon?"

Nancy swallowed hard. "Um... we didn't talk about that," she admitted.

"Well, if you decide that things are becoming serious between the two of you, I'd like to meet him. After all, any man who can slow you down long enough to catch your attention for a significant period of time... I'd definitely like to meet."

"I'll tell him," she said, and stood. "Thanks, Dad."

"And if you decide to become intimate with this person, take precautions," he told her. "Any man who tells you that he won't isn't worth your time."

Nancy blushed even more deeply. "I—we will," she said, then opened the door as quickly as she possibly could.

The dress Nancy had selected for the fundraising dinner was a shimmering aquamarine that Bess swore was the perfect shade to bring out Nancy's eyes. The neckline was just a little daring, and the skirt fitted to her hips, then draped all the way to her ankles. Bess sighed and shook her head when she saw her friend in it; Nancy had asked Bess to come over and help her with her makeup before they left for the fundraiser.

"Ned's coming for a visit this weekend," Nancy confided, grinning, as Bess unpacked her enormous makeup cases.

Bess squealed. "Does that mean I'll get to meet him? Or will you two be shacked up in his hotel room doing all sorts of unspeakably dirty things to each other."

Nancy chuckled. "I don't know," she said. "I haven't really talked to him about what he has planned. But if you don't meet him this time, definitely next time."

"And if your father calls my house and asks for you...?" Bess raised her eyebrows as she considered two different shades of eyeshadow, then peered into Nancy's eyes, debating. "Did you lie to your dad and tell him you'll be with George and me this weekend?"

"Um... I actually told him the truth."

Bess's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God. I wish I could have been a fly on that wall. So how'd he take it?"

"Well, he wasn't _thrilled_ or anything, but then I wasn't exactly asking his permission either," Nancy said.

"Go, girl!" Bess chuckled. "I'm glad he didn't lock you in your room and wait outside with a shotgun or something. Because I, for one, am super impatient for you to totally do it with that unfairly gorgeous man, and then tell me every last detail." She sighed in jealousy.

Nancy chuckled, too. "Dad did basically give me the 'no glove, no love' speech," she admitted.

Bess immediately doubled over with laughter. "Remind me to give him five on the way out," she said once she recovered. "Man, your dad is so super intimidating. That just made my day."

Having dinner with her father and Adriana wasn't very bad at all, and the food was outstanding. Nancy found herself thinking of Louis's cooking, though, and almost mentioned the amazing dinner she had eaten on Ned's yacht, but she thought better of it. Hannah, Carson, and Adriana all complimented Nancy on her dress, and Nancy remembered that Ned had told her to take a picture of it. She wished he was there to see it in person, though. Dressing up when he wouldn't be able to see her wasn't nearly as exciting.

Then they went to one of the largest, most exclusive hotels in Chicago, one with an enormous ballroom. The event coordinator snagged Carson immediately to take him backstage and go over the evening's itinerary, and Nancy and Adriana sat down at the table where they were directed.

"Well, this certainly looks very lavish," Adriana pointed out with a smile. The older woman wore a black strapless gown with a lace overlay, and had finished the outfit with sparkling diamond earrings, a gorgeous dinner ring, and a silver clutch. She looked very sophisticated, and fit in very well with the crowd around them.

Nancy nodded and smiled. "Definitely. Dad's been practicing his speech for a while, but I know he'll be glad to get that part of the evening over with."

As soon as they had walked in, Nancy had scanned the crowd, but more people were arriving all the time, all of them dressed incredibly well. Of all the events she could be attending, this was the most likely to result in an encounter with Humphrey. He had left a few messages on her Facebook wall, and she had a feeling that his memory of the events in New York featured his own contributions to the investigation in a far more prominent way than she herself remembered it, but she didn't begrudge him the bragging rights. He really had been a tremendous help to her, even if he could be pretty annoying otherwise.

She felt keyed up, though, and shivered happily when she realized why. Soon, in less than a day, she would be seeing Ned again. She couldn't wait.

Just before the director announced that Carson was about to speak, Nancy was at the long table of hors d'oeuvres, picking up a cream puff, when Humphrey approached her. "Hi Nan," he said, and she caught herself narrowing her eyes at him without even meaning to do it. "You're looking fine."

"Thanks, Humphrey," Nancy said with a polite smile. "You look nice."

"Are you going to stay for the dancing after?"

"I... I don't know," she hedged. "Maybe for a little while."

"Great!" Humphrey beamed. "I'll definitely have to grab you for one."

Nancy shook her head as she headed back to the table. She supposed she could put up with one dance. Then she could duck out—and call Ned. If she already felt this excited, she couldn't even imagine how she would feel once she actually saw him on Friday.

When her father took the podium, Nancy looked on with her chin propped on her hand, a soft smile on her face. While her father only accepted the occasional request to deliver a speech, she had seen him deliver closing statements in the courtroom, and he knew exactly how to command a room, to deftly handle the emotions of those listening to him. He struck a perfect balance between humor and appeal, and when he nodded and stepped away from the microphone, the room burst into loud, appreciative applause.

The dancing portion of the night began after a few closing appeals, and when Carson asked for the first dance with his daughter, she told him that it was okay; he could dance with Adriana, she didn't mind. But he shook his head, offering her his hand, and she accepted it.

"I've been thinking about what you told me," he said, as they moved onto the parquet floor together. "And, any irrational protectiveness aside—I am happy for you, sweetheart. I've seen you with dates I hoped could make you happy, but you are a very special young woman, and I'm sure it will take a rare man to keep up with you."

"He is that," Nancy told her father with a small smile. "And I hope that when you do meet him, because I'm sure you will, that you find him just as amazing as I do."

Carson smiled at her. "Well, I think I've told you before that I will stand behind any choice you make," he told her. "I'd like to think that I raised you well, and you have a good head on your shoulders."

Nancy smiled again. "Thanks, Dad."

When the first song ended, Carson glanced over and chuckled a little to himself. "Am I to understand this is the lucky man?" he asked, but he had a definite sparkle in his eyes.

Nancy glanced over to where he was looking, suddenly irrationally sure that Ned would be standing there—but she saw Humphrey instead, and sighed to herself. "Hello, Humphrey," she said, her voice polite. "And no, Dad. Sorry."

Humphrey was entirely too delighted to be dancing with Nancy, and Nancy hated that her heels made him taller than he. His dancing was competent, but not fluid or natural, not like the last man who had held her in his arms, and danced with her in New York. "How have you been, Nancy?"

"I've been fine. You?"

"Great," Humphrey said heartily. "I've been great. I keep thinking about... that last day in New York. Man, it was intense, wasn't it?"

"Mmm-hmm," Nancy agreed, trying her best to seem interested.

"Do you... ever have dreams about it?"

"Hmm?" Nancy brought her gaze to his face, her heart sinking a little as she read the barely veiled anxiety there. "Well, not about that case, but sometimes I do dream about other cases," she said, keeping her tone even and light. "It can help to talk to people about them. Sometimes it just means that you still feel a little... attached, I guess, to them."

"Oh." Humphrey glanced down. "I mean, it's not, all the time or anything..."

She patted his shoulder. "It can be a really scary thing, to not understand what's going on," she said. "To be kidnapped. And sometimes the fear can kind of linger. At least, that's the way it's been for me, a few times."

She was trying to make him feel like he could confide in her about it, and it worked, although she could tell he was still trying to act like it hadn't affected him as much as it clearly had. "That's terrible," he said. "Were you upset for a long time?"

She shook her head. "Not really, but I always had my friends and family to tell about it," she pointed out. "And that helps a lot. Just going to a counselor or doing something like that could do wonders."

Humphrey nodded. "Well, that's good... to keep in mind, you know."

She smiled at him. "Have you been keeping busy?"

It took him a moment to shift gears, but once he started talking to her about his responsibilities at work and began to relax, she let herself tune out a little. God, what she wouldn't give to see Ned, to hear his voice, to feel his arms around her...

Her heart was beating a little quicker as she imagined it, and then Humphrey glanced up. "May I cut in?" a masculine voice asked.

Nancy glanced up too, and she blushed as she saw the owner of the voice. Her entire body felt like it was almost quivering in response. "Ned," she whispered.

"Hey beautiful," he told her, a smile lighting his handsome face, and she moved away from Humphrey, launching herself into his arms.

"You—you didn't tell me! I thought..."

Humphrey made a soft noise somewhere between a squawk and a cough. "You—he?"

Ned looked at Humphrey. "Mr. Corbett," he said pleasantly. "I'm sorry. Good evening."

"Good..." Humphrey shook his head. "You told me you were just interviewing him!" he said to Nancy.

"I... was," she said with an apologetic smile, and then Ned was slipping his arms around her, whisking her into the next dance.

"I can't believe you're here," she whispered, gazing up at him. "Are you real?"

Ned nodded, grinning again. "Very real. Live and in the flesh. And you are every bit as gorgeous as I imagined you would be tonight—more, even."

"And you look... so handsome," she said, glancing down at his immaculate black dinner jacket and crisp, snowy white shirt. "I've missed you so much."

"And I've missed you too, beautiful."

"How long have you been here? How...?"

"To answer your second question first, just waving around a checkbook does wonders," he told her, executing a smooth turn. "And I arrived just before your father took the podium."

Nancy shook her head. "I wish you'd told me," she murmured.

"I would have, if I had been sure," he said. "But I didn't want to disappoint you, telling you I'd be here, if I wasn't able to make it."

She tightened her grip on him. "Well, regardless of anything... I am so incredibly glad to see you."

They danced together for the next two songs, and Nancy felt like she was floating on air. Every time their gazes met, she felt another rush of happiness. During the third song, Nancy saw her father and Adriana move near them, and she could see that he was checking out her partner.

Ned slowed down a bit. "Mr. Drew?"

Nancy blushed slightly as her father slowed, too. "Yes?"

"Edmund Nickerson," Ned introduced himself, extending his hand.

Nancy saw the slight shift in her father's gaze as he placed the name, but he extended his hand. "Carson Drew. And I see that you've met my daughter."

Nancy smiled, ducking her head. "She's a remarkable woman," Ned told her father. "And it's a pleasure to meet you. Your speech was refreshingly honest, and thoughtful."

Carson smiled, tipping his head in acknowledgment. "I'm glad to hear it. So are you visiting for a while?"

And then Nancy was sure that he recognized Ned's name. He had been privy to the suspect list before she had, after all. "I had some business in the city and couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Nancy," Ned said with a smile.

After a few more pleasantries, the two bid each other a good night. Nancy had known her father for a long time, and she could tell that he was sizing Ned up, using the same keen perception that had made him a terror on cross-examination and a master of jury selection to evaluate him. From everything Nancy could see, though, Ned was completely poised and self-assured, and betrayed absolutely no anxiety or doubt when speaking to her father.

But, as they moved away, Ned squeezed her hand again, and Nancy could feel the faintest trace of perspiration there. She smiled up at him, charmed by the betrayal of his nervousness. "You did amazing," she told him.

He smiled back. "Thanks," he said. "Now, I was thinking maybe one more dance...?"

"Why, is Louis waiting with some incredibly decadent dessert?" she teased him.

Ned dramatically clutched at his chest. "You wound me to the core," he told her. "Now I see, it wasn't my money you were after, it was just Louis's exceptional cooking."

"Definitely," she winked. "I mean, unless you had some other... skills, to show me."

"Hmm." Ned leaned down, and his lips brushed her temple. "Maybe, if you ask nicely."

They danced as close as they dared for the last one, and with every note of the song, Nancy felt her heart beat just a little faster at the thought of leaving with him. Maybe he wasn't ready for that, though, she told herself, trying to calm down. But the knowledge that he was in the city made the thought of any time spent apart absolute torture.

Once the dance was over, Ned took her hand. "I have a surprise for you," he told her. "Do you mind if I take you away from all this?"

"Please," she said with a grin.

A hired car was waiting for Ned, and she slid into the backseat after he opened the door for her, smiling as he followed. She was listening to hear what address he gave the driver, but he didn't say anything, and she wondered which hotel they would be visiting.

The car pulled away from the curb and Ned turned to her, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing the outer curve. "Hello, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

"Hi handsome," she returned, and when he leaned down to brush his lips against hers, her heart began beating wildly. She ran her fingers through his hair, and as his tongue slipped past her lips, as their kiss deepened and grew more intense, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"God, it's been torture to be away from you." He nuzzled against her neck, his breath hot against her skin, and she shivered.

"I know," she breathed, tipping her head to the side, a warm tingling of arousal spreading over her chest. "Mmm..."

His palm brushed the side of her breast, and she shivered again. "Ned," she whispered.

"Mmm-hmm." His lips brushed hers again, and when she gently ran her nails down the back of his head, against his scalp and the back of his neck, he groaned, nipping at her.

When the car pulled to a stop she immediately sprang away from him, flushing at the thought of the driver seeing them that way, but Ned smiled at her, much more relaxed than she. "Guess we're here," he said.

The building she saw when they slid out of the car was tall and stately, newly renovated. Ned reached over and took her hand, and she followed him willingly as he led her inside.

"Good evening, Mr. Nickerson," the doorman said with a smile. "Nice to see you again."

"Good evening," Ned replied pleasantly.

She watched, her brow a little furrowed, as Ned went to the elevator. He slipped his arm around her as they boarded the next car, and as the car began to rise, he dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Ned...?" she murmured, wondering when he was going to tell her about his surprise.

"In a minute," he told her, and she could hear a smile in his voice.

He unlocked the only door in the hallway, reached in to turn on the light, then gestured for her to walk in first. Nancy wrapped her arms around her waist, gazing around wide-eyed.

The walls were a neutral but sophisticated grey-brown, and the plush ultra-modern furniture was upholstered with a material that felt gloriously soft to the touch. The living room was organized around a beautiful fireplace; the kitchen was full of industrial steel fixtures, and it looked pristine. Absently Nancy toed out of her shoes, then realized what she was doing and glanced over at Ned, wondering if they were meeting someone else here.

"It's all right," he assured her with a smile.

"It's gorgeous," Nancy said wistfully. And large; she, Bess and George had looked at apartments the summer before, but anything large enough to accommodate the three of them was expensive, and anything in their price range was cramped. This apartment was beautifully, richly appointed, with nothing secondhand, nothing mismatched. It was the opposite of the dorm rooms and off-campus college housing to which they had become accustomed.

"Did—does this belong to a friend of yours?" she asked hopefully.

Ned shook his head. He had toed out of his shoes, too. "It's mine," he told her. "As of Monday. The coffee table is intermediate, though; I'm waiting on a special order for that, and Louis—"

Nancy's eyes widened. "What do you mean, it's yours?"

"I signed the lease on it," he told her, taking her hand, and his eyes were sparkling. "So it's mine, for the next year, probably two."

Nancy swallowed and just gazed into his eyes, speechless.

"I know it will be harder for you to travel than it is for me, and a lot of what I do can be done over the phone and through email and the internet," he said. "I do still have to take trips, but that's always a given. So, when I can, I was thinking that I could stay here, and we could see each other. It's big, it has plenty of room... Nan, say something...?" He raised his eyebrows, her hand still clasped in his.

Nancy let out her breath in a long sigh. "I... I can't believe it," she whispered. "You didn't want to just, get a hotel room or something...?"

Ned chuckled. "I plan on seeing a lot of you," he murmured, smiling. "And I like having a lot of space to myself, and Louis likes having his own kitchen, and it just seemed to make sense. If that's okay with you."

"Oh, God—of course it's okay!" She wrapped her arms around him with a soft, happy squeal, and Ned laughed as he picked her up. "I can't believe you would do this for me."

"For us," he said, moving so he could look into her eyes, and brushed the tip of his nose against hers. "It is incredibly selfish, I know, but I want somewhere we can relax and be together and not have to worry about, say, waking the neighbors..."

Nancy blushed, then planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're too much," she murmured.

He shook his head. "I've learned the hard way to trust my instincts," he said quietly. "I get burned when I ignore them. And I know that maybe it feels like I'm jumping the gun a little, but knowing that you aren't in New York anymore, God, it just feels like a hole has opened up in my chest."

Nancy cupped his face in her hands. "I know what you mean," she said softly. "Ever since the last time I saw you..." Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. "When I hear your voice, when I see a message from you... it makes me so happy, but I can feel every mile between us, and I wanted so badly to feel your arms around me again..."

He smiled. "Your wish is my command," he whispered, and her heart skipped a beat when he kissed her again. "Now, gorgeous, there is one room you haven't had a chance to see yet..."

Her nervousness rushed back as he carried her to the bedroom, even though she shivered with delight when she saw it. The bed was enormous and made up with a decadently plush comforter in a silk duvet cover. The headboard was flanked by two nightstands, and she saw two low dressers, three doors. A master bath and two walk-in closets.

The apartment, the room, wasn't meant for a bachelor. It was meant for a couple.

Nancy just looked at him, rendered speechless again. Although she had to admit, she wanted very much to sleep in the same bed with him again, she had never really let herself imagine that happening on a regular basis.

"I like a lot of room," he murmured, and he let his hand drift down her back. "I haven't had a chance to try it out yet, though..."

Nancy reached for his hand and squeezed it, as he stepped close to her. The kiss he gave her was deep, almost possessive, and it left her unsteady on her feet.

_Now or never_, she told herself, and forced her eyes open.

"Can we talk for a minute?" she murmured.

Ned nodded, and before she thought it through she led him over to the bed, both of them sitting down at the foot. The conversation would be better suited to the living room, she thought wryly, but pressed on anyway.

"Ned, seriously, all this... I'm a little overwhelmed. In a good way," she rushed to add when his brow furrowed a little. "This is such an amazing gesture, and I can't wait to spend time with you. It means so much to me that you would do this."

His brow cleared, and he smiled at her, his thumb stroking the side of her hand. "Like I told you... I don't do this," he admitted. "The other women I've dated, I've always been the one who wanted to slow things down and think things through. With you... well, it was either this or go on a crime spree so you'd have to chase me, and that way we could spend some time together."

Nancy chuckled. "Even though it would be much more expedient to just cuff me to the bed?"

His dark-eyed gaze immediately went even darker in response. "Just say the word, gorgeous," he said, his voice low and almost rough.

Nancy flushed a little, looking down. "I'm sorry," she whispered immediately. "Last time, when we were at your apartment and I wanted to slow down... Well, you're a lot more experienced than I am."

"How do you know? Did you find my sex tape online?" The teasing tone in his voice quieted the split-second of panic she felt when she thought he was being serious.

Nancy shook her head. "I just know," she murmured. "Because I haven't had a lot of experience. Uh, any, in fact, not really."

Ned was left speechless for a moment. "When you say you haven't really had any experience..."

Nancy found a loose thread in the side seam of her dress and toyed with it. She knew her face was glowing with self-consciousness. "I mean that the reason I kind of freaked out when I was with you was because I had never been like that with anyone else," she admitted. "I, uh... I've made out with guys before, and... fooled around a little, but nothing like that."

Ned let out a soft groan. "Oh, God. Nan, I'm sorry—I didn't know... I wouldn't have been like that..."

She took a deep breath, then raised her head. "It's okay," she told him. "It was... it was nice, I just got scared..."

He gently cupped her cheek. "Shit," he whispered. "So you're _totally_ a virgin?"

She nodded. "How can you be partially a virgin?" she asked, tilting her head.

"If you've... done some things, but not others," he explained. "Like if you—"

"I get the idea," she said hastily. "I guess that would make me extra-virgin, then. I mean, I've... I don't know what it is, but when I'm on cases, I meet a lot of guys who seem to be interested in me..."

"Maybe because you're brilliant and gorgeous and so totally unique that they can't pass up the chance to get to know you," Ned suggested with a smile.

She returned the smile. "And it's exciting, and while we're working together, it makes everything a little brighter and sharper, you know? And then, after... it just fades. They—they get jealous of the time I spend on my cases, or incredibly protective, or it just..." She shrugged. "It always falls apart. And that little spark of attraction just fades."

He searched her eyes. "Always?"

"Always," she nodded. "Always, until you. And I was glad with them that I never took that step. I don't want to have that kind of relationship with someone I can't respect, or who doesn't respect me. I always thought..."

She let herself trail off, and Ned made a soft sound. "You always thought what?"

"That it would be romantic," she said softly, toying with the loose thread again. Then Ned reached for her, hooking his finger under her chin to tip it up, and she met his eyes as she continued. "That it would be sweet and special, and with someone who loved me, someone I loved. Before... I was afraid I would never find that person. Now..."

He stroked the ball of his thumb over her cheek.

Nancy let out her breath in a soft sigh. "I guess all this is to say that... I'm not ready yet, and I'm really sorry if part of the reason you did this is because you thought we would be..."

"Going at it like rabbits?" Ned supplied with a half-smile.

"Yeah." Nancy frowned. "I'm really sorry, Ned."

"For what? For wanting to wait until you found someone you really cared about, to share that experience with? That doesn't sound so bad to me," he told her, squeezing her hand.

She gave him a small smile. "It's just, I'm sure that the other women you've dated haven't wanted to wait..."

He tilted his head. "Although a few of them probably should have," he commented. "First off, Nan, you _aren't_ like them, and that's what I love about you. Second, you make it sound like I'm some horny seventeen-year-old with no self-control. Which—hell, that's probably the kind of guy you've had the most experience with, huh."

Nancy shrugged a little. "Kind of. And the more desperate they sounded, the less into it I was."

"Noted," Ned said wryly. "Look, I'll be okay. The prospect of having crazy sex with you was only part of the reason I rented this place, and it's all right. Although..."

Nancy brought her head up, gazing at him warily.

"The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable, and I'm sorry if—being in bed last time upset you."

She shook her head. "No. It just scared me a little. And I just didn't want to go so far that you'd be upset with me if I told you that I needed to stop."

He shook his head, too. "Again, I'm not a seventeen-year-old asshole," he reminded her softly. "I don't like taking no for an answer when it comes to business, but between us, especially in bed? Perfectly okay."

Nancy relaxed a little, nodding her head. "Okay."

"But my question is—I know you're not ready to take that last step, but... what about going from extra-virgin to... virgin?"

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "Like how?"

"Like... being intimate without necessarily crossing any lines that are going to make you uncomfortable. Like being together the way we were in my apartment, as long as we know going in what's off the table. Because if you liked what we were doing, and we could still maybe do things like that...?" He gave her a small, hopeful smile. "And, like I said, nothing that's going to make you uncomfortable."

She considered, and although she was trying to reason it through, the memory of his hand against her bare skin, the overwhelming arousal that feeling him against her through their clothing had caused... the idea of experiencing that again was incredibly seductive. "I guess," she murmured. "I... we could do that."

He smiled at her. "Good," he murmured.

Her gaze dropped to his lips as he moved closer to her. "Bess has told me so many times that I'm only this reluctant because I don't know what I'm missing," she said softly.

"Well, beautiful," he murmured against her lips, just before he kissed her, "that may be so, but I'll tell you this, I don't know what it's like to go to bed with someone I feel this strongly about. So you'll be showing me something, too. If you let me..." He kissed her again, longer, deeper, and when they finally broke the kiss, he nuzzled against her neck. "If you let me I swear I'll do everything I can to make it incredible for you, Nan. That I will find every way to touch you and kiss you to make you happy. And if you decide you want us to take that step..." He brushed his lips against the hollow at the base of her throat, then planted a lingering kiss there. "Then I'll do my best to make it everything you want it to be."

She shivered as his large hands spanned her waist, his breath warm against her skin. "Bess always told me that my first time was going to kinda suck," she admitted, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Not if I can help it," Ned growled, and sucked hard, briefly, at the join of her neck and shoulder.

She moaned quietly. "Mmmmm... I can't imagine that it ever would, with you."

"Not unless you ask for it."

Nancy's eyes popped open as she realized what he meant, in that quietly amused tone. "Not yet," she chastised him.

"'Not yet.' Definitely not the same word as 'never.'"

Nancy felt a soft throb of awareness as she considered what he was implying. "True," she murmured. "Will you teach me how to make you happy too?"

"If you insist," he murmured against her neck. "Even though you already seem to be doing a great job, all by yourself."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! I'm working on a follow-up to this story which is adult-rated, so it won't be posted here. If you're interested in reading it and are of legal age, send me a private message and I can let you know when and where it's posted. (It will be at AO3.)**


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